Harry Potter and the Faces of Fate
by tommorusso
Summary: Harry Potter is a small boy who has been neglected and abused by a cold and cruel family. A more psychologically and developmentally realistic Dark!Harry Slytherin!Neville, the 'other' Gryffindor girls. Serious exploration of the Wizarding world and its history and expansion but still JKR compaitble. Horcrux!Harry but NOT god-mode or UberEvil Key is REALISTIC! Full series rewrite
1. Part 1

There is so much Dark HP fanfic on here that I feel get's close to the mark of what I really want to read but falls just short that I thought I'd give it a stab myself. Canon up to the point of the start of chapter 2 of Book 1. Trying for a more realistic reaction to the abuse suffered by Harry at the hands of the Dursleys and perhaps a truer (as I see it) interpretation of the nature of Harry as a Horcrux. I'm not taking any great liberties with the story or altering any of the stuff prior to where my story starts.

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it. Review please, this might well be a LONG work in progress.

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We start off in Chapter 2 of HP1 which I have included for the sake of completeness.

"Chapter 2: The Vanishing Glass.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I ... don't ... want ... him ... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang-"Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically-and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside.

"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, boy-any funny business, anything at all-and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly..."

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.

On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have carried him up, but couldn't understand how that could be.

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There is now a brief interlude where my story takes over.

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Then there were the snakes. Harry liked snakes because they were friendly and would talk to him whenever he needed to run away from the Dursley's for a few hours. They seemed drawn to him to the extent that some scientists and television people had turned up a few years ago and made a great deal over how the 'population-density' of both native and foreign snakes was higher within a few miles of Privet Drive than anywhere else in the country. Harry had been locked in his cupboard when all the excitement was going on but was let out when the television vans. That night he was 'treated' to watching the news reports where he saw Uncle Vernon being interviewed about the 'Serpent Menace' as he called it, wearing his best suit and his absurd moustache waxed into curls. Aunt Petunia and Dudley had been there too, Petunia looking like a preening bird in a canary yellow-sundress and Dudley wearing a tuxedo and a smile that was more of a grimace which looked like it was carved into his paunchy face.

The Dursley's hated snakes, hated pretty much everything that Harry liked and Vernon instructed that any snakes found in the garden should be killed on sight. Dudley took to this chore with uncommon vigour and enthusiasm for something that required him to leave the couch which forced Harry to get up early every morning to go and warn any newcomers that it wasn't safe. They usually obeyed him but from time to time he would find the small, coiled ribbon body of an adder or grass snake in the large grey wheelie bins. Snakes were pretty much the only friends the Boy Who Lived had.

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JKR's story resumes until Hagrid collects Harry from the hut on the island. Then it's all mine.

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Chapter 5: A Den of Friends.

'Hagrid, is there any chance we could pay a visit to my aunt and uncle's house before we go to London?' Harry asked while the countryside whizzed past in blurs of greens, yellows and browns.

'Of course, Harry,' Hagrid replied brightly, 'but whatever do you want from there?'

'I just... want to say goodbye to some friends.' Harry said, reluctant as ever to discuss his few friends.

Hagrid saw the nervous expression on Harry's thin, worried face and didn't press the issue.

The motorcycle hit the road of Privet Drive hard and bounced twice before deciding to stick. The rain that had hammered the hut on the island seemed not to have touched the place and the sun was bright and hot. Hagrid lifted Harry from the sidecar and deposited him on the pavement. 'Right Harry, you be quick now, don't know if you've noticed or not, but I do tend to stick out among the muggles.' He said through his thick beard which had been blown into a mane by the wind.

Harry chuckled, staring up at the giant with admiration then nodded and bolted into the house, using the spare key that Aunt Petunia kept hidden under a small decorative concrete pony that stood next to the front door that looked uncannily like her.

Harry took the small handful of money that he'd manage to secrete away over the summer, hoping it would be enough for his school things. Knowing that it wouldn't he went into the kitchen and clambered onto the counter with agility born of years of running from Dudley and nimbleness from avoiding slaps and objects thrown at his head by Petunia and Vernon. From there he could reach the highest unit and a small cookie jar that belonged to Petunia who believed it and its contents to be a secret. Inside, Harry found a small, tight roll of ten and twenty pound notes. With thoughts only for the last time she had given 'Duddykins' two pork chops and Harry none, he shoved the notes into his pocket.

He jumped down from the counter, pulled open the fridge, grabbing a handful of Dudley's favourite chocolate bars then ran into the garden.

He stopped short before he'd even left the patio.

On the grass, gleaming like short metal tubes, were dozens of snakes.

They were all of different sizes and all perked up at the sight of him.

'Wow!' Harry shouted, skidding to a stop. 'What're you all doing here?'

There were many that he found familiar including the family of adders from the fields nearby and a small cobra who disliked his owner in the adjacent Picket Way and spent most of his time wandering the neighbourhood looking for mice. 'We came to see you, Harry.' He said, rippling forward over his fellows, we became concerned when your denmates stopped you coming to speak with us.'

Harry nodded, 'I'm sorry about that, I was getting letters, you see.'

The cobra, whose name was Salatin waved his head from side to side. 'Letters? You mean the things that other two-legs put through the snake doors in the two-leg doors?'

'Yes, that's it,' Harry said, laughing despite himself. Snakes, it turned out, had a simple system of classification for all creatures in the world: No legs, two legs and four legs. Generally speaking they considered no legs to be snakes, anything with two legs was to be avoided unless sleeping and four legs were food unless significantly bigger than themselves. It was a classification that made a great deal of sense to Harry. 'I've been asked to go to a special school for... for...' the words wouldn't come to him for a few seconds. He swallowed hard, 'for Wizards.'

A short, high chorus went up from a hundred serpentine throats . 'Hogwarts-s-s-s-s.'

Harry started, taken aback. 'How do you know about that?'

A large shape moved among the rows of coiled bodies and a very familiar Boa Constrictor emerged, lifting its huge wedge-shaped head toward Harry.

'We snakes know a lot of things...' it said, drawing its huge length through the piled, weaving body of its fellows. It was larger since Harry had seen it last in the zoo, like being free of its enclosure had let it stretch itself out. Its scales were cleaner and more glossy, giving it a faintly shimmering quality. '... you will go, Harry Potter, son of three parents, you will go to Hogwarts and become great.'

'What do you mean, "Son of three"?' Harry asked, dropping to his haunches.

'That is something for you to learn in your own time, Harry Potter.' the great snake hissed, accompanied by the soft susurrations of the other snakes.

'But I'm scared, what if it's the same there as it is here? What if they just lock me away like the Dursleys?' Harry could feel panic rising up, overwhelming any excitement he'd felt for Hogwarts. Memories of the first time he'd been locked into the cupboard under the stairs after trying to run away flooded him and he lost his balance, dropping hard onto his bottom. 'What... what if...?'

A hot, smooth body wound itself around his torso and a sleek, glossy head appeared in front of his eyes. It was Assanassi, an adder that he had known for several years. 'Be calm, hatchling...' she said softly, 'you will have nothing to fear at Hogwarts for several moons. It is a place of learning and power for one such as yourself; you will be among others of your kind.'

Harry nodded, Assanassi's hot weight around him was comforting. 'Really?'

Assanassi nodded and the movement was mirrored by every snake in the garden. 'You will go and be happy there, you will face challenges, fear and, in time great danger, but you will have friends and help.'

'Friends?' Harry asked. The word was almost alien on his tongue. The snakes were the nearest to friends he'd ever had due to Dudley's hobby of beating up everyone who said more than a few friendly words to Harry.

Assanassi nodded again. 'Two legs friends and...' she paused, turning her head from Harry and spoke to another snake that he couldn't see, 'come, small one.'

There was the faint shushing across the patio followed by a small weight sliding across his left foot. Harry looked down to see a tiny adder, no more than six inches long looking up at him.

'This is Nidhogg, the youngest of my own brood.' Assanassi said, running the tip of her tail under the tiny snakes head. 'He will go with you to the house of the four teachers if you would like, he will care for you if you care for him.'

Harry's eyes lit up, all fear vanishing from his mind in a second. 'Really, truly?'

Assanassi and Nidhogg nodded in unison. 'He is very small, but already wise in the ways of our kind.' the brood mother said as Nidhogg twisted his way up Harry's leg and up under his left sleeve where he coiled himself tightly about his wrist.

Assanassi's smooth face became blurred as tears pricked Harry's vision. 'Thank you...' He said thickly.

'You are most welcome, Harry Potter.' Assanassi said, squeezing his midriff tighter for a moment before sliding back to the rest of her kind.

'You should be leaving, Serpentmouth,' Salatin said, eyes flashing, 'but go with a word of warning: do not be arrogant with your power, that is what bought about the fall of the one that came before you; follow your heart but do not give it away too easily and finally; do not assume that those who also favour the serpent are like yourself in thought or deed. Now go to the great half-blood that bought you here and away.'

Harry, more than a little confused nodded, stood then felt a strange compulsion that he had never imagined before and bowed at the waist to the great bed of snakes and the hundreds of gleaming, glowing eyes that were fixed upon him. They bobbed their heads in return and Harry, stroking Nidhogg still coiled snugly along his thin wrist, bolted back into and out of Number four Privet Drive.

'There y'are Harry, I was beginning to think you'd got lost.' Hagrid said, scooping Harry up and depositing him back into the sidecar.

'Nah, just saying goodbye.' Harry said, settling into his seat.

'Well then, if y'ready, we'll be off.' Hagrid said, showing white teeth through the black bush of his beard as he kicked the motorcycle to life. 'Next stop: Diagon Alley!'

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Right, that's the first bit I've worked on, there are many plans in my noodle for

All the major plot points that happen beyond Harry's control in the first story

And who knows, some events might take place much earlier than they

Did in the JKR books!

Read and review please, don't pull any punches.


	2. Part 2

I never liked Harry's response to the knowledge of how wealthy he is. It just doesn't make any sense for a child who has been raised on scraps and hand-me-down clothes should behave as Harry does.

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it. Review please, this might well be a LONG work in progress.

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Chapter 6: Small Truths and Raspberry Ripple

Hagrid drove the motorcycle along the ground for many miles, grumbling occasionally about traffic and not being able to just fly into the heart of London.

'Why can't you just fly there, Hagrid?' Harry asked as they were sat at an intersection. His bottom had become numb more than an hour ago.

Hagrid laughed his deep cave-echo of a laugh. 'Because that'd break the... umm... Statue of Secrecy... no that's not right.' His beetle-eyes rolled around for a few moments until Harry was sure the giant had suffered some kind of breakdown when, with a sound like a tree being snapped in half, Hagrid clicked his fingers.

'The _Statute_ of Secrecy!' He said, pride filling his voice. 'The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.'

'What's that?'

Hagrid's brow furrowed, turning his face into a wall of black moss. 'It's umm... like... how... well, basically, a long time ago Wizards decided that it'd be a good idea for muggles not to know that they, as in _we_, existed.'

'Really?' Harry mused, no more clear on the matter. Why?'

Hagrid shrugged and gunned the engine of the bike as the traffic lights changed. After a few minutes he turned back to Harry. 'Sorry Harry, what were we talking about?'

'The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.' Harry said. He liked Hagrid: he was friendly, polite and was singlehandedly responsible for – as far as Harry was concerned – saving his life, but he was clearly not very bright.

'Ah right. Well, the gist of it is that they decided that it'd be best if the muggles didn't know we existed except in stories. Caused a lot of fuss when it all happened, apparently.'

Harry nodded, understanding that he'd reached the extent of Hagrid's knowledge on the subject, decided to change tack. 'Did you know my parents, Hagrid?'

Hagrid swerved a little bit, eliciting a scream of horns from the other cars on the road then shouted a few apologies and waves of his dustbin lid-sized hands. He cleared his throat and looked at Harry. 'Lilly and James Potter, I knew them well.' He said, nodding sadly.

'What were they like?' Harry asked, suddenly hungry for any tiny piece of knowledge that he could get about people that he had no memory of and about whom he'd heard nothing but lies all of his life.

'Where to start...' Hagrid mused. Clearly this was a subject that was testing the limits of his memory and reasoning. He cleared his throat yet again and started speaking hesitantly. 'Well, they met at school, Hogwarts I mean, of course when they were both sorted into Gryffindor house, my own old house, that.' His vast chest swelled with pride as he stated this.

'What's Gryffindor?'

Hagrid made another pause where he started to weave in the traffic and scratched his head. 'Gryffindor is one of the houses at Hogwarts, named after the four founders: Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salezaar Slytherin.'

Harry ran his hand through his hair as the name Slytherin made a mental lightbulb ping on in his mind. He decided to file it away for the time being in case changing the subject confused his enormous chaperone. 'So, my mom and dad were in Gryffindor?'

'Oh yes, Harry and they were an excellent witch and wizard both. Your mom, Lilly, was even more impressive because she was muggleborn.'

'Muggle born?'

'Yes, muggleborn,' Hagrid echoed, 'It means that neither of her own parents were magic, you see. A lot of people don't think much of muggleborn people because they tend to have a harder start in the magical world due to not knowing anything until they receive their letters...'

'Like me?'

Hagrid made a loud Harumphing sound deep in his chest. 'I suppose so in a way, you being raised by those twits and their idiot boy, but don't you worry your head about it, Harry. You'll be right at home there, just like I am.'

Harry wasn't comforted. Undoubtedly the muggleborn students would all get lots of help with adjusting to their new lives. What help would he get? He was going to be dropped into a school of magic with no idea of what was happening or how it happened. A frown creased his face and his mouth settled back into the expression of sullen sadness that it had held almost constantly for the last eleven years.

He was dimly aware of Hagrid chattering away, probably about the wonderful Hogwarts and his amazing, powerful parents, but he paid no attention.

How could his parents be good magic users if they got themselves killed? They obviously hadn't cared about him if they'd left him in the care of the hated and stupid muggles known as the Dursleys...

He edged his finger under the too-large cuff of his sleeve and felt Nidhogg's tongue tickle the tip. At least the snakes had never lied to him. They'd always been there for him. He'd listen to Salatin's advice and watch out for what he assumed to be people from Slytherin house and it sounded like if his careless parents and the oaf next to him were examples of Gryffindors he wanted nothing to do with them either.

'Maybe Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw will be better?' He whispered to the tiny snake, not holding out much hope.

Eventually Hagrid seemed to notice his sullen mood and fell silent himself as they wound their way toward the capitol.

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Harry was jerked out of a dream of a red-headed woman surrounded by green light who was screaming his name over and over by the blasting noise of a truck horn.

'Wakey wakey, Harry.' Hagrid said, shaking his shoulder with surprising gentleness.

Harry coughed in the fumes of trucks and rubbed his eyes, the motion dislodged Nidhogg from his wrist and he felt the tiny snake crawl up his sleeve and settled back on his shoulder.

'Not there, just in case he pats me on the shoulder or something.' Harry whispered.

'What's that, Harry?' Hagrid said as Nidhogg slid down to the small of his back.

'Nothing, just clearing my throat.' Harry said.

A few minutes later, Hagrid pulled into a large car park. They were in Whitehall, Central London.

'Where are we Hagrid?' Harry said, clambering out of the side car and fluffing his hair out of the flat mash that it had been blown into by the wind.

'This, Harry is the largest Par Carp... no, that's not right... Car Park for Wizardkind in all of England. Not many of our kind use muggle transport, y'see, most of them use things like brooms or just apparate. I can't use a broom, they won't carry me and... well, I'm not allowed to apparate.' The small gap between Hagrid's beard and eyebrows flushed a bright red.

Harry, completely ignorant about what the giant meant by "brooms" or what apparating was, realised that further questions might make him cry.

Hagrid sighed heavily and sniffed before waving his hand to Harry and turning toward a small door.  
Harry followed, having to jog to keep up despite the fact that Hagrid was affecting little more than a slow plod.

They arrive at an ancient-looking elevator with a sliding gate made of glass that groaned and dropped several inches as Hagrid squeezed inside. Harry managed to fit inside with an inch between his nose and the gate.

'Hold tight Harry, the Ministry lifts can be a bit uncomfortable the first time you use'm.' Hagrid said as the elevator started to descend.

Harry's stomach clenched in anticipation and was about to relax, wondering if it was just an idiot giant thing to feel unwell in elevators when their small metal box jerker laterally along the ground, tripling its speed.

After a moment of hurtling in every direction and in complete darkness, Harry understood what Hagrid had meant and felt his almost empty stomach trying to betray him.

A moment later; light, sound and smells flooded the chamber. That was the final straw and as the gate slid open, Harry fell forward and vomited out onto grimy cobblestones.

When his stomach was completely empty, Harry felt Hagrid's hand – it could only be Hagrid's because it almost covered his back – grip his shirt and lift him gently to his feet.

'Sorry 'bout that Harry, it's not always that rough. There must be nargles in the machinery.'

Harry wiped his mouth and wiped away tears that had dripped onto the lenses of his glasses, one of which had somehow cracked straight down the middle.

Settling them back on his nose, his mouth dropped open.

The sight took him a few moments to understand. The elevator seemed to have deposited them in a street taken out of a kiddies history book of London. All around him were grey wooden buildings, most at precarious angles with shingled roofs. Each building appeared to be a shop of some kind, most with their goods on display outside.

He saw signs that read 'Apothecary' and 'Quidditch Supplies' all written in bright, elaborate letters with painted pictures

Somehow weirder than the buildings were the people: there were hundreds of people milling around the streets, shouting, laughing, running and – in a few cases – crying. They all wore the same crazy array of robes, pointed hats and cloaks that Harry had seen after the zoo incident. One woman was running in their direction, bright blonde hair flowing from the back of an emerald green robe that was hitched up around her knees revealing puce leggings and fuchsia boots with what looked like crystal heels. She cried out happily when a tall, thin man with a long nose and elaborate moustaches caught her and kissed her on the cheek. He was wearing a navy blue shirt with dark brown knee length boots and huge baggy trousers.

Harry managed to tear his eyes away from the street for a moment to look at Hagrid who was smiling broadly at him, his beetle eyes twinkling. 'Welcome, Harry, ' he said, gesturing to the street, 'to Diagon Alley.'

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Five minutes later, Harry and Hagrid were sat outside Florean Fortescue's _Ice Cream Parlour, __enjoying massive –for Harry – cornets covered in sauce. Harry had Raspberry Ripple while Hagrid was holding a quadruple Rum and Raisin between thumb and forefinger, trying to resist swallowing the thing whole. _

_It turned out that Diagon Alley was the centre of magical life and shopping in London and where witches and wizards came to stock up on the more rare or foreign goods they needed. _

_Hagrid sighed and gave up the battle, popping the whole ice cream into his mouth and chewing contentedly. When he swallowed he pointed to Harry's shirt pocket. 'Right then Harry, what does your letter say that you need?'_

_Harry licked his ice cream, saving it from dripping and pulled the battered envelope from his breast pocket, pulling the letter out. He read the list which started relatively mundane and grew confusing and difficult to pronounce, eventually becoming bewildering. 'Broomstick, as in flying broomstick?' He asked when he completed the list._

_Hagrid chuckled and nodded, 'C'rect, you'll probably be an amazing flyer like your dad but you'll have to wait for now.' He groaned, standing up from his chair and beckoned for Harry to follow._

_Gobbling down the rest of his ice cream, Harry fell into a quick walk in Hagrid's wake. 'Hagrid?' he asked, pulling on the back of the giant's jacket, 'How am I supposed to afford all this? It sounds expensive and...' He paused, patting the pocket with Petunias roll of notes, 'I don't have any money.'_

_Hagrid laughed his deep boom again and ruffled Harry's hair which felt like being pressed by some giant sanding device. 'Of course you have money, Harry. It's there.'_

_Harry pushed in front of Hagrid and followed the line of his finger. He was pointing to one of the few stone buildings in the alley which was also the largest by a long way. Yet again, his mouth fell open._

_'That Harry,' Hagrid said, pushing Harry along, 'is Gringott's bank. Run by Goblins so you know not to stare; frightful intelligent, Goblins, but not the friendliest of beasts.'_

Harry ran up the marble steps to the banks entrance and fidgeted waiting for Hagrid. 'How do I have money, Hagrid?'

'Your parents of course, you didn't think they'd left you with nothing now did you?' Hagrid asked, like Harry's question had been absurd.

Anger flared in Harry. 'How would I know? I only learned how my parent's really died today, oh yeah, and that witches and wizards are real, that there are flying motorbikes and brooms and that there are banks owned by Goblins!'

Hagrid lifted his hands palms out, 'Okay, fair point. Your mom and dad were very talented magicians, like I told ye, but it all really comes from the fact that the Potters are a really old pure-blood family, really wealthy. The goblins manage most of your money I imagine, investing it and things.'

'I'm rich?' The idea of being anything other than absurdly poor had never crossed Harry's mind. The idea of being "Really wealthy" was impossible to comprehend.

Hagrid nodded. 'Oh yes. You won't have access to much until you come of age, of course – just enough to enjoy yourself and make sure you're comfortable. But, come your seventeenth birthday, the entire Potter estate would come to you as you're the only living member of the family.'

Harry coughed and started to choke with shock. Hagrid clapped him on the back and pulled him through the huge golden revolving doors.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	3. Part 3

Harry's meeting with Draco Malfoy in the robing shop was one of fateful timing. If he had visited the Dursley's before heading to London then the delay would have meant that they didn't meet.

I'm not going to go into all the minute details of their time in Diagon Alley because it's boring and pointless for me to go over it all again. I'm also cutting down on the time spent in Gringotts as there's very little that would be changed by my story except for Harry's reaction at his sudden wealth.

I also found it strange how no one remarked upon Harry being dressed like a down-and-out and thought that he would realistically want to tidy himself up a little, especially when confronted with so many well dressed people.

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it. Review please, this might well be a LONG work in progress.

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Chapter 7: Goblins, galleons and green shirts.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he entered the grand bank. It was nothing like any building he'd ever seen. He emerged into a massive room that gleamed with white marble and gold. Dividing the room down in two were twin lines of huge wooden counters that gleamed heavily with varnish. Each counter was occupied by twenty goblins, which, at a distance looked like humans with overlong noses, ears and chins.

The bank was full of milling customers queuing at the counters. The majority were obviously witches and wizards, but Harry could make out a number of people who were obviously muggles from their dress and the way they were walking around gape-mouthed.

_These must be the parents of muggleborns_, Harry assumed as a tall, thin man took out a wallet and handed a stack of muggle money to a small, bushy-haired girl about Harry's own age who handed it over to the goblin behind the counter.

'You'd be outta your mind to try'n rob this place,' Hagrid muttered as they walked, 'best magical security imagineable.'

Harry followed Hagrid deeper into the bank and stopped at the furthest end against the back wall where an elderly goblin sat with two youngsters either side. Closer, the differences were much more clear: They were very small, looking to be less than four feet tall and were oddly proportioned, having huge heads and hands with extremely long fingers in relation to their small bodies and short limbs. Their eyes were small and beady, having black corneas and the elderly one stared at Hagrid unblinking as they approached the counter.

'G'mornin,' Hagrid said, 'we're here to take some money out of Mr Potter's vault.'

The young goblins gasped at simultaneously and the elderly one raised his large eyebrows.

He leaned forward. 'Mr Harry Potter?' he growled, looking down and scrutinising Harry.

'Yessir.'

'Well my word...' The old goblin said, curling his long fingers around his pointed beard. 'Does Mr Potter have his key?'

'Got it here somewhere,' said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of mouldy dog biscuits over the goblins book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right scribbling a note furiously. After a few moments, he pulled a small golden key.

The goblin scrutinised the key for a few moments before nodding.

'I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. 'It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.'

The goblin read the letter carefully. 'Very well,' he said, handing it back to Hagrid, He gestured over to the goblin on his right, 'Griphook here will escort you down to the relevant vaults.

The goblin Griphook's eyes went wider than Harry thought possible before he jumped down and walked around to face Harry and Hagrid.

'Follow me please.' the goblin said and led Harry and Hagrid to another gate-fronted elevator.

'What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?' Harry asked.

'Can't tell y'that,' said Hagrid mysteriously. 'Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth t'tell you.'

More things he won't tell me. Harry thought, becoming increasingly suspicious as the elevator rattled along.

When the elevator stopped, Griphook held the door open for them.

Harry, who had expectedmore marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in — Hagrid with some difficulty — and were off.

They travelled down winding corridors and vast yawning spaces, cold wind stung Harry's face as they descended into the earth. Hagrid started to turn an odd shade of green.

They screeched to a halt a few minutes later in the middle of a long row of doors set into stone. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts. The idea that all of this was his made him feel like someone had poured sunshine into his mind. For a moment he had a vision of himself surrounded by presents, toys and games piled high while Dudley looked on, crying and tugging at Petunia's skirts. A small gasping laugh escaped his lips at the image.

'All yours,' smiled Hagrid.

_All mine..._ it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.

'How much can I have?' Harry asked, looking at Hagrid then Griphook.

'Are you here for funds for first year at Hogwarts?' the goblin asked tersely.

Harry nodded.

'This year's estimated cost for supplying a new starter at Hogwarts is between fifty and one hundred and fifty galleons. If you require spending money for the year, as a minor you're entitled to take up to two hundred and fifty galleons at any single withdrawal.'

'Done!' Harry shouted excitedly.

Griphook handed him a small leather bag and Harry half-jumped half-skipped into the room and started grabbing handfuls of golden coins, throwing them into the bag. Hagrid laughed and helped Harry pile some of them in.

'The gold ones are Galleons,' he explained. 'Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough.'

'How much are... these,' Harry said, gesturing to the multi-coloured coins, '_worth_?'

'In muggle money?' Griphook asked.

Harry nodded, pulling the drawstring of the bag closed.

'At present, the exchange rate for British Galleons to British Pounds is one to five pounds and ten pence.'

Harry laughed out loud. He'd never had a tenth of the money that was currently in the little bag in all his life. He slung the bag over his shoulder and chuckled as Nidhogg wound his way around his waist and settled on top of the waistband of his absurdly baggy trousers.

'Right, that should be enough for a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh.' Hagrid said. He turned to Griphook. 'Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?'

'One speed only,' said Griphook.

They descended even deeper on the cart and Harry was vaguely aware of the door disappearing and Hagrid retuning holding a paper-wrapped bundle.

'What's that?' He asked the giant.

'I've told you already, Harry. I can't tell you.'

Harry shrugged and occupied himself with inspecting the designs on his coins while the cart returned to the surface. They exited the bank with the thanks of Griphook.

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They spent the next hour going between shops, buying everything from ink and quills to weird, furry books and a cauldron apparently made of pewter, which Harry had previously only seen in the form of cheap novelty jewellery.

'What's left then Harry?' Hagrid asked, adjusting his hands on the dozen or more shopping bags he was carrying.

'Just... a wand and what must be the uniform? Does it literally mean a magic wand?' Harry asked, consulting the shopping list.

Hagrid nodded, 'You'll be wanting Madame Malkins Robes for All Occasions then, Ollivander's wand shop'll be heaving at the moment n choosing a wand isn't something y'should rush. D'you mind if I go to the pub for a quick pick-me-up? Those Gringotts cars make me feel a bit... y'know?'

Harry nodded eagerly. He was feeling tired after so long in pleasant company, it was something he'd rarely encountered and after so little sleep. His stomach growled painfully, but he was used to that.

He set off down the street, meandering around groups of excited shrieking people. The sign for Madame Malkin's was huge and as he approached, the door disgorged a tall, strikingly beautiful woman with gleaming platinum blonde hair and a sharp faced boy who could only be her son of about the same age as Harry. They were followed by a tiny creature about the size of a goblin but with sad, elongated features and wearing a toga that looked like a knotted pillow case, carrying more bags than Harry thought possible. The pair stepped out, the woman smiling at the boy as they walked off down the street.

Harry frowned, mystified and stepped into the shop which was blessedly empty.

'Hogwarts dear?' a woman's deep, resonant voice asked.

Harry spun round to see a squat, smiling witch who was smoking a pipe staring at him. He nodded quickly and ran his hand nervously through his hair, trying to smooth it down.

The woman's eyes popped wide and her pipe fell to the floor. 'Merlin's beard, Harry Potter?' She asked astonished.

Harry frowned and nodded again. 'H-how do you know my name?'

The woman held out a finger and pointed at Harry's head. 'The scar... from you-know-who.'

'I know who what?' He asked, more confused than ever.

'Oh my dear,' the old witch said, 'I heard you'd been raised among muggles, but has no one ever told you _anything_ about what happened?'

'My parents died when I was a baby, I was raised by my aunt and uncle.' He said, 'What else is there to know?'

Tears pricked the corners of the old ladies eyes. 'Oh my dear...' she said, pulling him into a hug which made Harry go rigid. He couldn't remember ever being hugged without being crushed by Dudley.

Madame Malkin let go of him after a moment and flipped the sign on the door so that inside it read "open" and took Harry by the hand. 'Come this way dear, let's get you fitted for school, you must have a million questions.'

She bade Harry stand on a small box and started measuring him. While he told her what had happened so far that day which amounted to the sum total of his knowledge of the magical world that he was apparently a part of.

'So, what really happened to my parents?' He asked as tried on various pointed black hats.

'Well, in the years when your parents, Lily Evans and James Potter were at school, there was a dark wizard going around trying to convince everyone that magical folk should rule muggles. That muggles were inferior somehow.'

That seemed fairly obvious to Harry at that point. The Dursley's were muggles and evil bigoted idiots where as every magical person that he had met so far had been friendly and helpful.

The old witch carried on. 'And as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named grew more popular, more and more people started joining him and eventually his followers became violent against anyone who stood up to them.'

Harry swallowed hard, imagining what was coming next.

'People fought back, though. Some brave souls like your parents and Dumbledore, God bless that man! The longer the war- and it was a war – went on though, the more powerful He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named became and people, ordinary witches and wizards everywhere started to lose hope. When your parents found out that you were on the way, they went into hiding so that they could protect you. Your parents were killed by you-know-who because they, along with many of their friends, believed that He was wrong, that the muggles deserved to be free and live in peace.'

Live in peace? Harry thought. Have they never seen how muggles behave? They fought, made war, starved and killed one another constantly while killing the world around them. Images of dead snakes in the dustbins flashed through his mind.

'No one really knows what happened that night.' Malkin continued, 'everyone was scared and confused, but I hear a lot of chatter, being the most popular rober in Diagon Alley and I've heard that You-Know-Who found out decided that you and your parents were next. He somehow found out where you were and went to... kill you all. Nothing, not Dumbledore's protective magic, not all of their training and power, nor your family fortune could protect them from The Dark Lord's power and they both fell against him. But when he turned his wand on you, Harry, something happened. Something that as far as we know has never happened before or since.'

Harry saw the weird bright flash of green again.

'The spell with which he tried to kill you, the spell that had killed your parents and dozens, maybe hundreds of others: Failed.'

Harry realised he wasn't breathing and gasped. The old woman met his eyes, clearly mistaking it for fear because she put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

'The spell failed except for giving you that scar,' she pointed to the lightning bolt on his forehead,' and somehow by some miracle, You-Know-Who's power was broken. He disappeared that very night and has never been heard of since.'

Harry felt Nidhogg crawl up the back of his shirt and under his arm. 'What happened to him?'

'No one knows, some believe that he was killed, others that trying to kill a baby was so monstrous that it drove him mad enough and destroyed him. Some people actually believe that you are blessed, that you were born _destined_ to destroy him.'

Harry shivered as Madame Malkin lifted him down from the box.

'All done, dear. Would you like a cup of tea?'

Harry shook his head. 'How much do I owe you?'

The elderly witch dismissed him with a wave of her hand. 'Don't you worry about that, Mr Potter. You just do me one favour in return.'

Harry frowned, people asking him things without a threat of violence or privation behind the words were unusual to him.

'You go to Hogwarts and do your parents proud, okay?' The old woman said, her eyes tearing up again.

Harry smiled, amazed at the kindness of people.

'Where are you heading next?' Malkin asked as she bustled around packing up Harry's purchases.

'Hollyvanders the wand shop.' Harry said.

'Olli-vanders.'

'Olivanders, that's it.' Harry grinned as the old witch handed him six bags.

'Right, you won't find a better wand than one from Olivander. Is there anything else I can do for you?'

Harry looked down at his muggle hand-me-down clothes. 'Do you have anything I could get for today? I feel a bit... out of place wearing this.' He said, hiking up his trousers. He set the bags down and unslung his bag of Gringott's gold and took out a fist full of galleons.

Malkin's eyes went wide and she walked around the store taking down robes, trousers, shirts two hats, one pointed and one somewhere between a cowboy hat and fedora. She dropped them on the counter and sorted through them, handing him a pair of black trousers and a shirt the same green as his eyes.

'Try those on.' She pointed to a changing room.

The shirt was a perfect fit, resting neatly on his shoulders and fitted around his chest and waist. The trousers didn't even need a belt but fit cleanly around his waist. He emerged from the changing room fidgeting and looking at how his big toe was sticking though his sock.

'Very nice. Do you like the colour?' Malkin asked.

Harry nodded grinning and the old witch threw him a paper packet.

'Socks,' She said, 'and some pants too. Should get you through your first few weeks at Hogwarts.'

'How much are all these?' Harry asked, looking over the piles of clothes.

The old witch shrugged, 'cheap enough that you won't have to worry about damaging your family fortune and expensive enough that you'll look good at Hogwarts. I'll make an account for you if you'd like. You can start it off with however much you want now.'

Harry grinned so widely that it used muscles he wasn't aware he had. He handed her sixty galleons which she dropped behind the till and scribbled his name into a dusty old ledger then offered him a quill pen with a tiny drop of ink quivering at the end. 'Sign here.'

He took the quill and scratched his name onto the parchment. The name above his read "Malfoy". 'Is that the boy and his mother that left before I came in?' He asked.

She nodded. 'It is. A family as old as yours and the one of the first ones to come back from the dark side when You-Know-Who disappeared.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

Malkin smiled, 'These bags are all too big for you to carry right now. You take this one for tomorrow and I'll make sure the rest get to you, okay?'

Harry nodded, grinning again. 'Thank you Madame Malkin, thank you so much.' He darted forward and caught the old woman around the waist in a great hug. No one in his entire life had been so helpful and honest with him as she had.

The old woman hugged him back, wiped tears from his cheeks and escorted him to the door. 'You're most welcome, Harry Potter.' She said, 'Now go, don't worry about the clothes, I'll be in touch.'

Harry Potter stepped out onto the street looking and feeling like a new boy. Hagrid was nowhere to be seen but there was a fiery-headed teenager walking around with the same look of self-importance that Uncle Vernon wore to work walking by and Harry tapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped like Harry had dealt him an electric shock and turned. 'Yes, what is it, what do you want?'

'Excuse me, I was just wondering if you could direct me to Olivanders, the wand shop?'

'As opposed to what, Olivanders the quaffle repair store?'

Harry just stared at the boy, gritting his teeth.

'Yes, yes, it's up that way,' the boy's bravado faded quickly and he pointed up past the apothecary, 'go past the quidditch supply shop and it's second on the left.'

'Thanks.' Harry forced a quick, tight smile and strolled off, hefting up his bags.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	4. Part 4

**Update: Following Hawk Wood's review, I've made a change to something I was never happy with to begin with. That's the kind of review I'm talking about people!**

After seeing what he had seen in Diagon Alley and his experience at the Dursley's, why would he go back there?

I was always hugely disappointed by the lack of wandlore present in JKR's texts and even Pottermore makes me sad so I decided to include a bit of my own. The greater story will expand WIDELY on what you will find in this chapter and have a huge bearing on the wider story. Please tell me if you like it.

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it. Review please, this might well be a LONG work in progress.

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Chapter 7: Dinner with Holly

A door chimed as the door to Olivander's wand shop opened. Inside was pretty much exactly what Harry had imagined. There were a few oil paintings of old witches and wizards, a large barn owl in one dusty corner, eyes firmly closed and a thick layer of dust on every surface that had been brushed aside in places to form drifts and clean patches where bottoms had perched and leaned.

Harry stood in the middle of the dimly lit space, bags in hand. There were a handful of people in the store, reading through what looked like thick instructional manuals. There was no sign of anyone working in the store.

He placed the bags in the cleanest corner of the shop and picked up the nearest book.

"Wandlore for Beginners, 127th revision by Temeritus Ollivander." The title declared in large gold lettering on a maroon leather cover.

Harry pulled open the cover and started to read.

"The magic wand is, alongside the orb and staff, one of the most iconic tools employed by witches and wizards throughout all of recorded history.

The point of any major tool of wizardry is to act as a focus for a magician's innate power. Wands are the most popular in the modern day because they're extremely versatile, compact and have had enjoyed many hundreds of years of unhindered research and development. This golden age of wandlore was originally ushered in by the Dictator of the Roman Republic Quintus Hortensius who created a law known as _Lex Hortensia_ in 287 B.C. that was designed to make all people equal. It also required that the magic wand become the standard item of magical equipment across all religions in Rome. As a result of this, wandmakers flourished and multiplied (Rome had always been a major hub of wand development, but had suffered almost a century earlier when the Ollivander family fled oppression to settle in Pre-Roman Britain) and the development of the first unicorn hair wands took place, quickly replacing the earlier trend for the more erratic gorgon tendon cores.

The expansion of the Roman Republic (and later Empire) exposed wand makers to many new woods, increasing the range of specialist wands available."

A hand touched Harry's shoulder and he dropped the book which hit the floor with a heavy _thwack. _Spinning around, he took a nervous step back, the reflex of dodging Dudley's fists heavily ingrained.

'Easy there.' Said an old man with long grey hair and odd silver eyes. 'I'm sorry I scared you.'

'I wasn't scared.' Harry snapped, taking a shuddering breath.

'Okay. Your first wand is a momentous occasion; I can understand why you might be a little tense.' The old man said smiling.

His smile was wide and full of bright teeth, but somehow it didn't reach those cold silver eyes. Harry somehow knew that this man knew more about wands than he ever would himself, but held not the slightest grain of trust for him.

'How do you know it's my first wand?'

'I remember every wand I've ever sold, young man. I sold wand each to Lily Evans and James Potter in nineteen seventy-one before they started their magical education at Hogwarts. That makes you their son, Harry: The Boy Who Lived.'

Harry's mouth went dry. Madame Malkin had explained that he was well known in the magical world, but to have a title? That was too much.

'You... knew my parents?'

The old man nodded, walking behind the counter. 'I didn't know them well, but they were both very well matched, both in my wands and each other. I still maintain that your mother would have been better placed in my own house of Ravenclaw. But perhaps with the hindsight of her defence of you, perhaps the old hat was correct. I see the same fire that was in her behind your eyes too.'

Harry's mind was boggled. _Is there anyone in this world that doesn't know more about me than me?_ He thought.

He was about to ask a question when the old man emerged from the counter holding a tape measure that appeared to be dancing. The old man measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head...Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, wasn't even in Ollivander's hand. He was just taking notes on a tiny piece of paper. After a few seconds he walked back behind the counter, mumbled something and the tape fell into an untidy ribbon on the floor.

'A friend of yours?' Harry muttered into his collar. Nidhogg wriggled against his collarbone.

The old man turned around, a box in each hand. 'Which is your wand hand?'

Harry stared into the silvery eyes and shrugged.

'Amazing the number of youngsters who don't know that...' the old man muttered. 'Hold your arms out to the side.'

Harry did so and the old man smiled. 'Right it is.'

He put one of the boxes back and set the other on the counter, removed the lid and withdrew a wand of pale wood. 'Try this one. Beech and dragon heartstring. Nine inches, very nearly what I'd call bendy.'

He handed the wand to Harry who held it dumbly. It felt like a dull stick and made him feel stupid. _What am I supposed to do with this?_ Lost for choices, he waved it, mumbling 'Abra... cadabra?'

A pale hand snatched the stick from his hand. 'What did you say?'

'Abracadabra. They're magic words, aren't they?'

Ollivander sighed, 'Not real ones, I though you said something else. Something... very bad.' He put the wand back in its box, replaced the lid and returned it to the shelf. After scratching a dense growth of stubble for a few moments he took down another two boxes. 'Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches, whippy.'

This wand felt even more like a dead stick than the first and Harry had hardly moved it when Ollivander yanked it out of his hand, replacing it with a longer one of black wood. 'Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy.'

Harry waved the wand and nothing happened, though it felt better in his hand than the first two.

'Right... it would seem you're going to be difficult just like your father.' Ollivander said, smiling grimly.

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Twenty minutes later there were more than twenty boxes on the counter and Ollivander's face was a contorted grimace as the twelve inch alder and dragon heart string wand caused a small dust storm to blow through the room.

Harry tossed the wand to Ollivander and stamped his foot in anger. The sudden movement almost dislodged Nidhogg who hissed in annoyance.

'Sorry.' Harry said under his breath.

As the words left Harry's mouth, Ollivander's eyes went wide. 'I wonder...' the old man said, retreating out of sight and returning a few seconds later. He placed a box that was draped with a heavy layer of cobwebs on the counter and slid it toward Harry. 'Try this one.'

'Okay.' Harry said tentatively, confused as to why the old man hadn't opened this box like the rest. 'What's special about this one?'

'Try it and I'll tell you. Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather. Supple and strong.'

Harry lifted the lid and knew that this wand was different before he even touched it. He drew a sharp breath and a sweet, spicy taste flooded his mouth which watered immediately. An exhilarating tingle ran up his arm as his fingers touched the smooth, gleaming wood and he shivered as they curled around the handle.

Drawing the wand out of the box, he held it at arm's length and swept it down. The lights in the store immediately died. Swinging it back up, they burst back into life.

'Amazing.' He said, his breath tingling his lips.

Ollivander clapped his hands three times. 'That'll do.'

Harry felt like the wand was as much a part of himself as his own fingers, nose or legs and he twirled it around on the flat of his hand. 'What's so special about this one?'

Ollivander smiled. 'The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Potter.'

'What's that supposed to mean, are they alive?'

'In a manner of speaking, but it's very complicated. You see, it was discovered a long time ago that certain combinations of highly potent magical materials with different types of wood had the effect of channelling a magician's magical ability, making it much easier to practice magic than without. Certain wands seem oddly drawn to certain people, creating results greater than the sum of their parts. Such very close joining of wand and wizard are quite rare, I've only seen it's like once every couple of years at the most.'

'So what're you saying?' Harry asked impatiently.

'The core of this wand is the tail-feather of a phoenix, like I said. The phoenix that it came from donated not one, but a pair of feathers more than fifty years ago. I made two wands, the one in your hand and another that was ultimately used to give you that scar.' Ollivader said, pointing to Harry's forehead. 'It was bought by the greatest dark wizard of this age. Lord Voldemort.'

A shiver ran down Harry's spine. 'What does that mean?' He asked as his skin broke out in gooseflesh.

'I think that we can expect great things from you, Harry Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great.'

Harry swallowed hard and felt Nidhogg slide down his arm back toward his wrist. 'He was nothing more than a murderer!' he shouted as anger flared within him.

Ollivander shook his head. 'He was a great deal more than that, Mr Potter. In time I believe you will come to realise how much more. I suggest you speak to your new headmaster about the matter. He may be able to help you more than I, for I only met He-Who-Must-Be-Named on a handful of occasions. I would, however, offer you some professional advice, if you would hear it?'

Harry nodded, his fists clenched tight, the wood of the wand warm against the palm of his right hand.

'Get to know your wand – learn it's every detail, inside and out. There is a reason it chose you, Mr Potter and should you persevere, I think you will become a truly great wizard. Don't let the kinship your wand shares with his trouble you overmuch. You are your own man, after all. Whether you end up in Slytherin like He-Who-Must-Be-Named or Gryffindor as did your parents, you will go far.'

Harry didn't reply. His mind was too full and confused. He paid seven galleons for the wand and tucked it into the waistband of his trousers. It felt like it had been there all his life. Ollivander smiled that cold smile again as he bowed him out of the store, sending another shiver down Harry's spine.

As soon as Harry emerged back into Diagon Alley, he made a beeline directly back to the bookstore where he purchased every book he could find on wandlore. While a mystified young witch bagged all the books up, he glanced another called "The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts", which he added to the pile.

Outside, he found that he was so overloaded with supplies that he could hardly walk and so decided to take a seat outside a cafe with a good view of the whole street where he could wait for Hagrid.

_Where is he?_

His stomach growled again and he realised that all he'd eaten since the sausages the night before had been an ice cream. Grabbing one of the menus that were floating around overhead he found that he recognised most of the items. When he was unable to choose between _butterfly cockatrice_ and the _ten-pounder Avalon burger_, he remembered the weight in his pockets was gold and ordered both.

It turned out that Nidhogg enjoyed beef burger.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	5. Part 5

**Authors Request: If you supply any feedback, could you give your opinions on the background, science-of-magic and lore that I'm supplying please?**

In reply to Katankapotter, for all of Harry's enforced maturity, he remains a kid. An eleven year old can and does swing between different emotions.

Also, American readers who don't know the size of a cricket ball, just imagine a softball.

Why oh why would Harry meekly accept going back to the living hell of the Dursley's?

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it. Review please, this might well be a LONG work in progress.

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Chapter 8: Leave-taking

"The aftermath of the Rite of Accession resulted in several upheavals in the magical world and is believed to have been the deciding factor in Emperor Claudius' choice to begin a full-scale invasion and colonisation of Britain. Claudius built on the work done by Caligula the Mad and affected the first genuine landing in Britain in or around what is now Richborough on the east coast of Kent. The fact that Roman magicians had wands that no longer required recharging, along with the discipline of the Empire meant for the first time Rome held a significant powerbase in Britain from which they rapidly expanded.

The greatest blow to the Native British came when the governor Gaius Suetonius Paulinus conducted the Menai Massacre, destroying the seat of Druidical power on Ynys Môn or Angelesy in what is now Wales. The only thing that saved any vestige of traditional British magic was Boudica's uprising in the north. It is widely believed among magical historians (the writer of this document included) that Paulinus was, by that point in possession of a magical artefact of such power, that it was able to occupy and temporarily overwhelm the powers of the most potent Druids in the land while their muggle soldiers went about their grizzly work. Either way, native British magic never recovered and thus began what was known as The Age of the Wand. This term has fallen out of use in recent centuries as wand use is so ubiquitous now that it is unlikely any other form of focus will ever exceed them."

Harry set the book back on the table and wiped his eyes. Every time he learned something new about the wizarding world, it seemed he encountered new horrors.

'Not that I'd choose anything over you.' He said, thumbing the handle of the wand that now rested next to his fork.

The table was heaped with plates, cups, goblets and books that Harry had started reading. The only one he had read in any detail was "A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot" and in a little over an hour of sitting outside the cafe, he had flown through more than a hundred pages, some of which were lightly splattered with cockatrice gravy.

His mind flashed back to the old tin toy soldiers that stood in his cupboard under the stairs and he shuddered. He took another sip of pumpkin juice and wriggled deeper into his seat before picking his book up again.

He was warm and comfortable, his belly full and his mind genuinely engaged and it was the first time he could remember all of those things happening at the same time. An image formed before his eyes of an enormous roman soldier, gleaming bronze breastplate, leather skirt and all. The solider had Dudley's face. He loomed over Harry who was looking up from the floor and drew the sword that was at his hip.

'Time to die, freak!' he said in a voice that boomed in Harry's ears.

Harry bolted upright in the chair, crying out and started as the book fell to the ground. Hagrid was standing over him shaking his shoulder.

'You alright Harry?' He said, the shiny black pebbles of his eyes gleaming in alarm.

Harry nodded. 'Yeah, I'm fine. Where were you?'

'I'm sorry; I fell asleep in the pub. It's 'cause we came straight 'ere from the hut on the rock y'see.' Hagrid said as he picked up the fallen book.

'It's okay I guess. I thought you'd ran away or something.' Harry said, taking steadying breaths. Being alone in Diagon Alley suddenly seemed as bad as being alone in the cupboard.

Hagrid laughed that deep cavern echo sound and sat on the chair opposite Harry which groaned loudly under his prodigious weight. 'I'm ever s'sorry, Harry. I'll never let you down again.'

Harry frowned at how incredibly sincere the giant sounded. It made the anger inside him die immediately. 'It's fine Hagrid, really. I was just a little worried. I was okay though, I'm used to being on my own.' Harry put the book back into his bag.

'I like the new clothes.' Hagrid said taking a cricket ball sized pinch of Harry's leftover burger, 'they really suit you – wow that's tasty.'

'You can finish it, I couldn't eat another speck. I like the shirt but I think I might prefer it in red.' Harry said as he brushed away crumbs. 'I got my wand. Mr Ollivander's a... an unusual man.'

Hagrid laughed again as he picked up the mammoth burger which seemed normal sized to him. 'He is indeed, but there's no one in England that knows half as much as old Garrick.'

Harry scooped up his wand and showed it to Hagrid who had devoured a full pound of the ten-pounder burger in one bite. 'It's really cool, it made the lights go up and down in his shop when I waved it and all sorts. I've not done anything else with it yet, but I'm going to give it a go when I get chance.'

'Bo n'gary,' Hagrid said with his mouth full of burger. Swallowing quickly he coughed. 'No, Harry. You shouldn't do any magic until you get to Hogwarts, okay?'

'Why not?'

'Because it's against the law and dangerous.'

'Against the law? To do magic?'

Hagrid nodded. 'It is until you're of age which is seventeen before you ask.' He took another massive bite of the burger.

'It's holly and phoenix feather, the wand. The phoenix that the feather came from gave two feathers and the other made Lord Voldemort's wand.' Harry said, matter-of-factly.

Hagrid choked, dropping the burger into the gravy. He banged the table as his eyes bulged.

Harry leapt to his feet and ran behind the giant, striking him in the middle of his enormous back.

With an explosive cough, a chunk of burger flew from Hagrid's mouth and hit an owl that had perched on the picket fence around the cafe. It flew away with an indignant squeal.

'Thankee Harry.' Hagrid said,coughing again.

'What's the matter?'

'Nothin' s'just that not many people use that name.'

Harry sat heavily back into his seat as Nidhogg wound tightly around his wrist, apparently annoyed at the sudden disturbance. 'Why, what's so special about his name?'

'Nothin',' Hagrid said, cuffing at his brow, 'It's just bad luck, or that's what people say.'

Harry nodded. 'I've been reading this book, _A History of Magic_, it's really impressive.'

'Aye, so I've heard.'

'So according to my letter, school starts on the first of September, almost t?' When Hagrid nodded, Harry continued, 'But it's a full month till then, so where am I going to stay until then?'

Hagrid frowned, 'Well, you'll be going back to the Dursley's of course.' Like it was the most obvious thing the world.

Harry jumped to his feet, 'What?'

'You have to, Harry. They are your legal guardians after all.'

'I don't care! Why would you send me back there?' Harry shouted as all his enjoyment from the day evaporated.

Hagrid held his hands up, 'Calm down now, it-'

'It's what, too much work, too much to ask that you don't send me back to them?'

'Look, Harry. I know they're not the easiest people to get along with but-'

'Not. The...' Harry spluttered, unable to believe what was happening to him. 'They make me sleep in a cupboard under the stairs. They shout and scream at me whenever I even put a single finger out of line. After what happened at the zoo I was only let out of the cupboard to go to the toilet and school for a whole month! I had one meal each day and if I made any noise at all then they'd tell Dudley that they wouldn't see if I happened to have a few bruises the next day! Why would you send me back there?' He was left panting as tears ran down his face.

Hagrid's face had turned bone-white. The look was startling when contrasted against the black of his hair and beard. 'You... They really?' He didn't seem able to get the words out.

'You think anyone's supposed to be this skinny?' Harry screamed, lifting his shirt, revealing his narrow waist and clearly visible ribs.

Hagrid's eyes went wide as his fists clenched on the table. He stood quickly and rifled through his many pockets, discovering the small owl who emerged blinking confusedly. Hagrid scribbled a note, attached it to the owl's leg and threw the small bird over arm into the sky. It fluttered around for a moment before heading north. When it was out of sight, Hagrid started gathering up Harry's bags and packages. 'Follow me.' He said, grim faced and walked back in the direction of the golden elevators.

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They emerged back into the car park where they were somehow able to load all of Harry's goods onto and into the motorbike and sidecar. Hagrid looked at Harry a few times and looked like he was going to speak but turned away.

It took Hagrid twenty minutes to be able to speak again, by which time they were clear of greater London and heading south-west. He turned to Harry and sighed. 'I'm sorry, Harry.'

'For what?'

'Being so blind. I knew the Dursley's were no good muggles, but we... or I had no idea that they treated you like this.'

Harry had no words to reply. 'What was the owl for?'

'Sent it to Hogwarts, there'll be either Professor Dumbledore or one of the teachers waiting when we get there.'

'We're going back to Little Whinging, aren't we?' Harry asked, his mouth dry.

Hagrid nodded. 'I don't know why, but you have to go back there until school starts. But I swear to you, Harry, on the love I had for your mum and dad, that I will put this right.'

Nidhogg tightened again around Harry's wrist as Harry himself thumbed the handle of his wand.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	6. Part 6

Authors Request: If you supply any feedback, could you give your opinions on the background, science-of-magic and lore that I'm supplying please?

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it. Review please; this might well be a LONG work in progress.

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Chapter 9: Reparitions

The motorcycle rumbled back into Privet Drive less than half an hour later.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he saw Uncle Vernon's car on the drive of number four. The boot was open and the front door open.

A figure emerged from the front door as Hagrid drew the motorcycle onto the pavement. Aunt Petunia shrieked before clasping her hands over her mouth.

What would the neighbours think? Harry thought, smiling as his nerves dissipated.

'Ssssooo...' Niddhog whispered into Harry's ear before escaping down his shirt sleeve and onto the road.

'Where are you...' Harry started before Hagrid lifted him out of the side car and set him on the pavement.

'C'mon Harry, don't you worry.' The giant said, climbing off the bike.

There was a loud pop next to Harry. In the fraction of a second where his eyes were closed in a blink, a tall witch wearing tartan robes and square framed spectacles over hard green eyes had appeared.

'Professor McGonagall Ma'am.' Hagrid said, pulling off his goggles.

'Good evening Hagrid,' the witch said in a strong Scottish accent, 'I received your message. Professor Dumbledore is visiting his... friend in Bulgaria.' She stopped speaking abruptly when she noticed Harry dwarfed beside Hagrid.

'Oh my word.' She said, her hand going to her mouth. 'Harry Potter.'

Harry swallowed hard. 'I'm sorry, do I know you?'

Professor McGonagall smiled and covered her mouth with trembling fingers. 'No. We did meet once but it was when you were very, very small.'

'Don't he look like his Dad?' Hagrid said, beaming.

'He does indeed. It's a pleasure to meet you again, Harry.'

Harry smiled, 'Same Professor.'

McGonagall turned to Hagrid. 'What do you need Hagrid? There are still a lot of preparations needed before the start of the new school year.'

Hagrid cocked his head and beckoned for McGonagall who followed him a few steps away and spoke in hushed voices.

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek, unhappy at being ignored and looked at the house. Uncle Vernon was at the front door, his face an alarming shade of scarlet. He was quivering all over, his impressive jowly face jiggling up and down.

'What?' McGonagal exclaimed loudly and turned to face the house.

Uncle Vernon seemed to notice her for the first time then and his face changed from one of fury to horror in an instant.

'Right.' McGonagall said, her face suddenly transformed into a marble-white mask and her mouth into a thin white slash as she stalked across Aunt Petunia's immaculately manicured lawn.

Hagrid followed and Harry bolted down the path.

'Mr Vernon Dursley?' McGonagall asked.

Uncle Vernon stared, spluttering.

'This boy, your nephew, the son of your wife Petunia's sister was entrusted to your care nine years ago. Am I correct?'

Vernon released a sound somewhere between a cough and a growl which McGonagall took to be an affirmative and she continued.

'You and your wife agreed that due to the circumstances surrounding the death of his parents, Harry would be raised in a loving, caring home and that when the time was right, he would be educated in the full details of his life and origins. You agreed this in a binding contract with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore.'

Petunia appeared behind Vernon, her face ghost white and pinched. McGonagall looked at her and sneered. 'You have raised this boy, the saviour of both magical and mugglekind alike, deliberately lying to him about his parent's fate and his own kind. You have mistreated him and treated him like his very existence is a blight on your family when it is the greatest honour any family could ever hope to receive!'

Vernon's mouth opened and closed very rapidly for a few seconds like a fish trying to breathe out of water.

'This boy is a living miracle!' McGonagall shouted at the Dursleys, 'He is the very reason that you are able to live as you do instead of being slaves to dark powers that your small minds cannot begin to imagine. Without him both our worlds would have fallen apart years ago.'

'We, we always looked after the boy.' Petunia protested in a high and simpering voice.

'You liar!' Harry shouted. His fists were clenched at his sides.

'You think that forcing a child to live in a cupboard beneath the stairs is caring for him?' McGonagall said, taking a step forward. The Dursleys retreated into the house. 'You think that mental and emotional degradation is caring for him? You think that dressing him in second hand clothes meant for a much larger person is caring for him?' McGonagall seemed to be on a roll. She stepped into the house, pursuing the Dursleys who were falling back down the corridor toward the kitchen. 'You think that allowing his own cousin to beat and abuse him, to treat him like a slave and punching bag and turning a blind eye to his injuries is caring for him?' She shouted the last question as the Dursleys backed into the kitchen door and cowered.

Harry followed them inside. McGonagall was a tall woman and she was terrifying in her anger. Harry could only imagine what it felt to face that cold, stern visage and shuddered.

The Dursleys were babbling and Petunia was weeping, her eyes scrunched into a patchwork of fine lines.

McGonagall took another step forward until she was inches away from Vernon's face. 'From now on, you will treat Harry with the dignity and respect he deserves. You will feed and care for him in a manner deserving of an honoured guest. You will deliver him to King's Cross train station in London on the first of September at no later than ten-thirty in the morning from where he will be taken to school. He will return at the end of the school year and be treated properly until he returns to school. He will attend Hogwarts School for seven years and when his education is complete he will leave and you will never have to see or hear from him or any of our kind again. Am I understood?' She spoke the final question slowly, elongating each word.

The Dursleys nodded furiously, babbling incoherently in terror and relief that they hadn't been turned into frogs or most likely in Petunia's case: any kind of dirt.

'Good.' McGonagall said, turning on her heel. She walked directly out of the house and Harry followed her, his mouth agape with awe.

'That was...'

'You're quite welcome Potter.' McGonagall said, smiling a tight but warm smile. 'I look forward to seeing you on the first of September.'

Harry nodded vigorously. 'Thank you.'

'I already said that you were welcome.' The witch said, looking him over. 'Clothes from Madame Malkin's? I think you'd look better in Gryffindor scarlet if I do say so myself.'

'R-red?'

'Why yes, I am the Head of Gryffindor House. Both of your parents were in my house and you have already displayed the key attribute of a successful Gryffindor.'

'I have?'

The witch nodded, the point of her long black hat swaying in the evening breeze. 'Bravery. You must have been brave to survive all these years with those dreadful people.'

Harry felt his cheeks flush and quickly looked down at his feet.

'Look at me, Potter.'

McGonagall was still smiling. 'If you have any more trouble from your _family_ before school starts, just send us an owl – I'm sure Hagrid has one on his person somewhere – and one of the Hogwarts staff will be with you as soon as possible.'

'I will, thank you Professor.' Harry beamed.

McGonagall walked past him and drew Hagrid to one side, said something that Harry couldn't hear.

'I understand, I'll see you at the school Professor.' Hagrid said, bowing to the witch who barely reached his stomach.

'Professor?' Harry shouted to McGonagall.'

'Yes Potter?'

'Scarlet, really?'

The witch nodded and drew out a wand of almost black wood that he somehow knew was very different to his own. She flicked the wand in his direction and he felt his shirt ripple, then she turned on the spot and disappeared with a sound like a snapping branch.

He looked down at his shirt. Where it had been the same green as his eyes, it was now the bright scarlet of the roses tended by Mrs Fig, the weird old lady that he was sometimes forced to spend time with. He admired the colour, liking the contrast against his pale skin and smiled.

'D'ya like it then?' Hagrid asked.

Harry nodded, 'It's nice.'

'Good, right then 'Arry, I'd best be off, got lots to do before the start of school.'

Harry's heart fell at the idea of being alone with the Dursleys.

'Don't worry now, I'll try to visit, but I'll try and write over the next couple'a weeks okay?'

'Okay,' Harry said, 'so I'll see you on the first?'

Hagrid nodded. 'I'll be waiting to meet you all off the train.'

Overwhelmed by the day's events, Harry ran forward and hugged Hagrid around the waist. Hagrid layed a massive hand on his back and patted gently.

Neither of them spoke again.

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The change in Harry's life with the Dursleys was unbelievable. By the time Hagrid had left, Uncle Vernon was already moving Harry's meagre belongings into Dudley's second bedroom. That night, Harry hardly slept as he replayed the day's incredible events over and over in his head. At two am there was a scratching on his window where he found a large barn owl resting on the windowsill with a folded piece of paper in his beak.

Harry retrieved the note and unfolded it. Large black letters read: "Harry, the owl just in caese."

Harry tucked the note under his pillow along with his wand and lay staring at the night sky through the window.

Nidhogg lay next to him in a neat coil. He'd arrived through the window less than a minute after Vernon had backed fearfully out of Harry's new room.

Dudley's new tail hadn't disappeared and he had remained locked in his room since seeing Harry and running away screaming.

Harry descended the stairs the next morning and was presented with a plate of bacon, two sausages, three eggs, fried bread, grilled tomatoes, baked beans and three slices of toast. Petunia placed the plate on the kitchen table and retreated into the living room.

When he had mopped up the remains of his eggs with the last slice of toast, he wiped his mouth and walked into the living room. Vernon and Petunia flinched away from him as soon as he entered.

'What do you want?' Vernon asked, terrified.

Harry took the roll of notes from his pocket and held them out to Petunia who whimpered. 'I took these yesterday when I thought I'd need them. I'm not sorry that I took them but I don't need to keep them so I'm giving them back.' He refused to apologise to them.

Petunia stuttered for a few seconds before waving him away. 'Y-you keep it, its fine, please.'

'You're sure?'

She nodded convulsively and he left the room, returning to his bedroom.

It was an intensely bright and hot day outside and he pulled on an old pair of Dudley's shorts, pocketed his wand then picked up his copy of _A History of Magic_ and Nidhogg who coiled around his bicep with his head sticking out of his t-shirt.

Prepared, Harry went back down stairs, poured himself a glass of orange juice from the refrigerator and went out into the garden. He took a seat on one of Vernon's custom made sun loungers, opened his book and resumed reading while Nidhogg sunned himself of his shoulder.

He read all day, only pausing to get sun cream, use the bathroom and eat the meals that Petunia bought him. Nidhogg plainly disliked the Dursleys because he would hiss and move behind the lounger every time either of them emerged from the house.

Life continued like this for two and half weeks until, late on Sunday evening, Uncle Vernon emerged from the patio door and approached. Vernon hadn't communicated with Harry since his return except to choke on a piece of treacle tart when he had entered the room.

Vernon stopped ten feet from Harry and stood with his hands clasped in front of him, eyes downcast and cleared his throat.

'Excuse me, but I wanted to let you know that we're taking Dudley to see a doctor about his,' Vernon twirled his finger, his representation of Dudley's new tail, 'and we were wondering what you wanted to do for the day?'

Harry laughed out loud. He had never been asked what he wanted to do. It had always been a case of him being ordered to either his cupboard or even worse to go to stay with Mrs Fig. 'Where is the doctor?'

'L-London.' Vernon said, flushing slightly. He always hated Harry asking questions.

'Then I'll go with you, you can drop me off at Whitehall and I'll meet you after you're done with the doctor.' Harry would go back to Diagon Alley.

Vernon's lip wrinkled in the start of a sneer which he hid quickly. 'Right okay, fine. We're leaving early, be ready for eight or we'll leave without you.'

Harry nodded and looked back down at his book. Vernon retreated back to the house.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	7. Part 7

**Notice: I've updated the previous page to take account of the fact that Harry is returning to Diagon Alley two and a bit weeks after his first visit. Unaccompanied this time. **

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it. Review please; this might well be a LONG work in progress.

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Chapter 10: A Moment to Breathe

Harry was dropped outside the wizard car park just after half past nine on the following morning, his leather money bag hanging from his belt and the bright summer sunlight shimmering on his scarlet shirt. The Dursleys drove off without a second look at him, Uncle Vernon's car rumbling loudly along the busy street. Nidhogg had declined to accompany him, sliding out the bedroom windows when Harry had woke up.

At the golden elevator, the gate was held open for him by a tall and balding red-headed man with a broad smile. 'Good morning,' he said jovially.

'Good morning.' Harry replied tentatively as the gate clanged shut and the car plummeted down into darkness.

'So,' said the man, a disembodied voice in the pitch dark, 'getting your Hogwarts supplies?'

'Umm, no I bought them a few days with Hagrid.' Harry answered.

'Rubeus Hagrid?' The man asked in surprise.

'Yes, he's the Hogwarts gamekeeper.'

'I know, I know him quite well.'

'Really?' Harry asked, turning around in the darkness and losing his balance.

He reached out his hands for the elevator walls but, finding only empty space around him, pitched forward until his forehead connected with a hard metal surface which rang with a dull note. He cried out and fell to the ground as his glasses which had shattered on his face fell all around him.

'_Lumos_.'The man said and the elevator filled with a soft silvery light. 'Are you alright?'

Harry groaned and rubbed his face, reaching for the broken halves of his spectacles.

The man reached down and picked up the pieces, laying them out in his hand. 'Occulus repairo.' He muttererd and an instant later, the fragments had jumped back together, complete and in better condition than they had been in when Harry had woke up that morning.

'Wow, thank you.' He said, accepting the man's proffered hand, taking the glasses back and pushing them onto his face.

'Merlin's Beard!' The man exclaimed, 'You're Harry Potter!'

'Why yes,' Harry said, surprised, 'but how do you know?'

The man smiled like Harry had said something absurd. 'How do I know? Why you're The-Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone in our world knows your name, Harry.' He extended a hand again, 'I'm Arthur Weasley.'

Harry initially flinched from the hand moving toward him, but recovered quickly and shook it. 'Nice to meet you.'

'My son starts Hogwarts this year too, his name's Ron.'

The elevator stopped, disgorging them out into Diagon Alley and Harry absorbed the incredible array of sights, sounds and smells at hand. The wizard was wearing a bright purple trilby, matching three-piece woollen suit and galoshes and was smiling down at him.

'Where are you heading first, Harry?' Arthur asked.

'To Flourish and Blott's I think, I bought A History of Magic a few days ago and I wanted to pick up a few more on the history of Britain. It seems that everything I've ever been told is a lie.' The last sentence came out sounding quite bitter.

Arthur nodded, 'I know what you mean, The Statute of Secrecy does keep muggles in the dark to what I believe is an unacceptable degree. There are many of our kind that believe the time for secrecy has passed, that we should emerge and mingle in the open once more.'

'Why don't we?'

'There are many reasons, most of them quite weak, but one of the main ones is that the International Confederation of Wizards is reluctant to allow magic,' he accented the word with the twitching fingers of air-quotes, 'to become widespread because of religious violence that would most likely be directed against wizarding kind. The last thing we need is a magic vs. muggle intra-species war.'

'I'd never considered that.' Harry said, thinking of the Dursley's hatred for magic.

'It's a very tricky business, I'm afraid.' Arthur said. 'Although you have been raised these last ten years with muggles if I'm not mistaken?'

Harry gritted his teeth and nodded. That was one of his biggest questions when he arrived at school. 'It would have been better that I'd been raised by werewolves, though.' He said bitterly.

Arthur recoiled as if struck. 'But Harry, they're your family!'

Harry wheeled on the man as his heart quickened and mouth turned dry with anger. 'They're no family of mine. They've been more like prison guards since before I can remember, always supporting their fat lump of a son who would beat me up every chance he got. And he got a lot, mainly because they encouraged it!'

Arthur took a step back under the ferocity of Harry's glare, raising his hands as if to ward off an incoming blow. 'I'm so sorry Harry, I had no idea.'

'That's fine, you weren't to know,' Harry said, rolling his shoulders and forcing his fists to unclench.

Arthur relaxed and lifted the sleeve of his jacket revealing an battered golden watch with nine hands and exclaimed aloud. 'I'm very sorry Harry, but I really must be going. I work at the ministry, you see and I really must be getting to a meeting with a shopkeeper over in Knockturn Alley.'

'What's that?'

'Knockturn Alley? Never mind, it's a very bad place, especially for a young wizard like you: full of dark magic. You must not go there, you understand?'

Harry nodded vaguely as Arthur started walking briskly away before turning back, 'I'll tell Ron to keep an eye peeled for you at King's Cross!' He shouted over the noise of the crowd before mingling into the press of bodies.

Harry, his head aching from the impact with the wall wandered into the street and found the same café where he'd eaten on his first visit to Diagon Alley. Inside, a hugely fat witch was dictating orders to a pigeon feather quill that was writing them on a floating notepad. When complete the orders detached from the pad, folded themselves into paper aeroplanes and hurtled through a serving hatch into the kitchen. The witch seemed to recognise Harry immediately. 'Gmornin' darlin,' she cried aloud in a thick Essex accent, 'same seat as last time?'

Harry nodded.

'I'll be out in a minute, love. Strawberry milkshake like last time?'

'Yes please.' Harry said and retreated to the same umbrella shaded table that he'd occupied while waiting for Hagrid.

He pulled out his current book, _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch. He had been engrossed by transfiguration or the ability to change an object, creature or person into something else and was into the final chapter titled, _The Perils of Over-Excitement_. The ideas presented in the guide seemed to make a great deal of sense to him and it had only been with the greatest application of willpower had he resisted trying to turn uncle Vernon's moustache into a weasel.

The witch arrived with her floating quill in hot pursuit. He ordered baked beans, sausages, bacon and eggs and paid with a silver sickle.

The reaction everyone had demonstrated whenever they discovered his identity still mystified him and while the witch talked about a break in that had happened at Gringott's Bank a few days earlier. He thought to test her reaction to his name and stretched, running fingers through his hair and subtly exposing his scar.

The woman's eyes moved and she immediately fell silent.

_Bingo_. Harry thought.

A wild mix of emotions rippled over the witch's features. 'Bless my soul. Harry Potter!' she almost shouted the last two words, which instantly drew the attention of the three black shrouded witches who were sat on the table behind Harry.

They turned round in their seats and stared at him with mouths agape.

'Is it true?' The waitress asked, staring at his forehead.

'Yes.' Harry said.

All four witches burst into sudden excited laughter and the crones started chattering between themselves.

'Barry!' The waitress shouted, 'Come out here, quick, Harry Potter's sat at one of our tables!'

Harry swallowed nervously as the waitress' words turned the heads of every witch and wizard in their half of Diagon Alley.

In the time it occurred to Harry that he would probably be mobbed by well-wishers, idolaters and the inquisitive and he'd decided to make a hasty exit over the picket fence, he was surrounded by people. They were all clamouring to either take photos with absurdly large cameras, wring his hand or hear of how he defeated You-Know-Who. One even asked if he had enjoyed his time living with King Arthur in Lyonesse before winking and pressing a weird hand-beaten coin of a weird silvery gold metal into his palm.

Over the next whirling minutes his wrist became sore from shaking, his face smeared with lipstick in a million wild colours and his back ached from being slapped endlessly by enthusiastic well-wishers.

Gold was pushed into his hands. Random witches and wizards cast charms of protection on him some of which were so wildly complicated that Harry couldn't even pick out snatches of the incantations. Others handed him scraps of parchment with hastily written notes inviting him to everything from lunch to free lifetime membership of exclusive duelling clubs and some only bore strange symbols including one which was a large bold 'X' with flanged arms.

Such a large amount of attention which while friendly was still aggressive terrified Harry. He started pushing through the growing crowd, elbowing and shoving when people refused to move. Breaking free from the press of people he sprinted up the road hearing people shout his name behind him.

He darted down a side street and into the nearest shop which happened to be Flourish and Blott's.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Harry sat down on a small stool just inside the doorway, took his glasses off and rested his head in his hands, breathing hard.

'Y'aright there kiddo?' A voice asked nearby in a thick northern accent a few minutes later.

Harry's throat was tight and he just shook his head.

'You got anything to do with that noise out there?' The voice asked.

It was a pleasant voice, that of a woman and bright. It made Harry think of good days when he managed to get away from the Dursleys and would spend time in the fields and playgrounds nearby – usually talking to the snakes.

Harry looked up to see a tall, pale witch with bubblegum-pink hair and a cute button nose. She was wearing a canary yellow t-shirt with bright orange dungarees and was smiling down on him. 'The name's Tonks.'

'H-Harry,' Harry replied, taking the hand she offered him and standing up.

'Well blow me down, they were telling the truth. Harry Potter.' The girl said.

Harry nodded, lifting his hair from his face.

'Well, nice t'meet you Harry.' Tonks said, picking up a stack of six thick books and proceeding to drop five of them, one of which landed corner-first on Harry's big toe.

Harry cursed and grabbed his foot, sitting back on the stool.

'Sorry Harry,' Tonks said, scooping the books back up, 'books for auror training y'know?'

'Auror?'

'Yep. Just starting my last year, NEWTS and all that, y'know?'

Harry shook his head.

'You don't really know much do you?'

'Not really. Sorry.'

'Don't feel sorry about it.' Tonks said, pulling a confused face. 'Everyone's talking about the fact you're due to start school this year.'

'You've been living with muggles since you took out You-Know-Who, right?'

Harry nodded again, trying unsuccessfully to read the spines of Tonk's books.

'We met a few times y'know?' Tonks said, dropping the books on the counter and rattling the glass, making the assistant wince.

'What?'

'Yeah, I was about… seven I guess and your folks had a party to welcome you to the world.'

Harry felt tears prick his eyes. 'Really, you're not mocking me are you?'

Tonks turned to him and smiled sadly. 'Course not! Who'd joke about something like that.' She handed the assistant a pile of galleons, dropped half of them and slipped all of them into a single pocket on the front of her dungarees then laughed at Harry's stunned expression. 'Just an extension charm, I turned seventeen a couple of months ago.'

'Cool, you'll have to show me that one.'

'No worries. So you really know anything about our world?' Tonks asked, taking a seat on a heavily padded armchair and patting the one next to it.

Harry take a seat. 'Not a clue really, other than what I've read in _Hogwarts: A History, A History of Magic_ and a couple of the textbooks for the year. That's one reason I've come here today; to get more books.'

'You're a quick reader. 'History of Magic's a long book.'

Harry laughed, 'Well I have a lot of free time, my family don't talk to me, you see.'

Tonks laughed now. 'That's a good one.'

'No, I mean it, they hate me and treated me like a slave until a couple of weeks ago when a teacher, MacGonagall visited and threatened to turn them into toads unless they started looking after me.'

Tonk's laughed again and her hair flushed to a golden yellow. 'MacGonagall is brilliant, she's always good in a pinch. She's the deputy head, you know?'

Harry nodded, staring at her head. 'Your hair… it…'

'Changed colour?'

'Yeah.'

Tonks smiled and her teeth turned into razor sharp points in her mouth before turning back and her ears elongated to become absurdly long before she returned to her violet-topped normality. 'I'm what they call a metamorphmagus.'

'Metamama-what?'

'Meta-morph-magus.' Tonks repeated, emphasising each syllable. 'It means I can change my appearance at will. I can't be do anything like change into an animal or anything, that takes years and you have to get registered with the ministry and stuff.'

'That's amazing!' Harry exclaimed.

'It has its uses,' Tonk's replied, 'It really comes in handy sneaking around the school after lights out dressed as the Slytherins. So, you've got your wand now then?'

The change of subject took Harry off guard, 'Yes,' he reached into a pocket in his trousers that was oddly the perfect length and pulled out the wand, 'holly and phoenix feather.'

'Nice,' said Tonks, doing the same from the front of her dungarees, 'mine's beech and dragon heartstring. Third wand I've had; I broke the last one at my seventeenth birthday party.'

Harry grimaced. 'So you said you knew my parents?'

Tonks nodded, 'A bit: I was pretty young but I know my dad was pretty good friends with your Grandad on your dad's side. Well after him and your gran died my mom and dad kinda kept an eye out for your dad, y'know?'

'I think so,' Harry said, untangling it all, 'What was my dad like?'

'You look just like him, actually. A bit skinnier, but he was quite thin himself. Wait till you start getting those Hogwarts meals, you'll soon fill out. You've got your mom's eyes though: there's no mistakin' who your folks were, with or without the scar.'

Harry rubbed the scar unconsciously.

'Your mom was gorgeous: tall and not too thin with lovely red hair. She was amazing with potions and charms and was a brilliant cook. I remember she made a massive cake shaped like Hogwarts castle for your first birthday, they sent me a piece of the astronomy tower by owl.'

Harry laughed, 'Really?'

'Absolutely, your dad was pretty amazing with transfiguration; apparently he transfigured your secret house in one day when they had to go into hiding.

'Hiding?'

'Yeah, from You-Know-Who; they were some of his biggest opponents and had to go into hiding when He was getting really powerful. He really had it in for your dad especially, considering he was a pure-blood who married a muggleborn.'

'Why?'

'Well You-Know-Who was all about the supremacy of pure-blood and how they were innately superior to any other source of magic. Imagine the look on his stupid face when you, a half-blood ruined him!' Tonks clapped her hands with glee. 'I'm half-blood too, y'see, my dad's muggleborn like your mom was.'

Harry leaned back in his chair, breathing deeply. His mind was so full again! Every time he had processed things about the world, new things turned up and completely rewrote every belief he had.

He decided to move onto something he could handle quickly. 'What are NEWTs and Aurors?'

Tonks smiled. 'An Auror is a Dark Wizard catcher, kinda like muggle police only really well trained and powerful. They only take in a few trainees every couple of years and I'm determined to make a go of it. It takes years to get trained up but after all the friends my folks lost to the You-Know-Who's forces, I thought it was the right thing to do.'

'That's brilliant, what do you need?'

'That's where the NEWTs come in. NEWTs are the exams you take in seventh year at school. That year's optional, but almost everyone at least gives it a try. NEWT stands for Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test and they're needed for almost all major ministry posts. The best thing about it is that British NEWTs are the most highly regarded magical qualifications in the world.'

'Cool. So you've got a tough year ahead.'

Tonks nodded severely. 'I'm bloody terrified to be quite frank.'

'Well I can help if you like? I want to fight the darkness too!'

Tonks smiled and nodded. 'Sounds like a plan!'

As she stood, a group of children about Harry's age came bustling excitedly into the store.

'How about we get you those books and shoot off?'

Harry nodded excitedly and followed Tonks into the book stacks.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	8. Part 8

In reply to the user Mithrilandtj: Who says that the only way into Diagon Alley is the flue, apparition or the wall? It is absurd that the entire wizarding population of Britain can only use a single physical entrance to one of the most prestigious magical locations in the world.

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please; this might well be a LONG work in progress.

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Chapter 10: Preparation and Steam.

Harry spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon with Tonks. He purchased a ten-galleon bag that held five times as much inside as the outside size suggested. He filled that bag with books on every subject from transfiguration, charms and combat magic. He had found that there was a book documenting the history of the Potter Family and promptly purchased it along with another titled, _Lineage and Lives: An Examination of the Great Houses of Britain._

He insisted on buying lunch for Tonks and she led him into a side-street off Diagon Alley where they ate hot, rich Indian food served by a man wearing a turban, long moustaches and whose skin was dyed a deep, iridescent blue.

The air was hot and thick inside the small restaurant and the heavy scents from burning incense made Harry's head foggy. They discussed the wizarding world of Britain and touched on the magical civil war that was ravaging China, the time she had spent in America and the recent resurgence in ancient Aztec magical practices in South America.

'What's Hogwarts actually like?' Harry asked, mopping up the last of his curry with a shred of naan bread.

'Amazing…' Tonks said wistfully, she had inadvertently ordered the hottest thing on the whole menu and her hair standing on end, a violent shimmering red colour.

'What's Dumbledore like?'

Tonks sobered a little, chewing her lip. 'He's… a little scary actually. Everyone rants on about how he's the greatest sorcerer and transmogrifist of the last age, Supreme Mugwump and all that, but the students don't see him all that often, he keeps to his office most of the time, dealing with that fool of a Minister for Magic and the running of the school. He gives a speech at the start and end of each term, attends the balls and feasts and beside that he's not often seen. He did turn up at one of my apparition lessons last year after the old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was killed by that dragon and he seemed pleasant enough, but he's so powerful and makes everything look so easy that he's not actually that good a teacher. He has no time for failure. I remember one boy; Kai Robinton got splinched halfway through the class, Dumbledore got really irate, whipped out his wand, knitted Robinton's arms back on and ordered him to do it again, better.'

Harry's eyes went wide. He'd read about the apparition or the ability to move instantaneously between places and it was a very powerful ability but hard to learn. The distance was only limited by a magician's own power. Legend held that Merlin, the most powerful Druid – and magician – in history had been so wise and powerful that he had been able to traverse the length of Europe in one go, travelling between Ancient Britain and Rome instantly and at will.

'Can you apparate?' He asked.

Tonks nodded, 'Got my license and everything. I'm still getting used to it right now and can't really manage more than a few miles with any kind of accuracy, but I'm getting there. I've not tried taking anyone side-along with me yet though, that's a big step, last thing I want to do is splice with someone.'

Harry grimaced, 'That's when…'

'When two people apparate together and aren't able to separate properly when they emerge from the astral plane. They either get fused together or come out two people but mixed together like odd arms or odd halves of faces.' Tonks shuddered.

'Nasty. I can't wait to get to school.' Harry said, putting thoughts of being pulled apart and haphazardly put back together with half another person's parts.

'Me too, you'll love the Hogwarts Express.'

'The train that takes us to school?'

Tonks smiled, 'I keep forgetting you've read that book about the school. I never bothered myself.'

'Why not?'

'Think about it, I grew up around wizards. I already knew loads about Howarts before I ever got on that train.'

Harry shrugged, 'I guess so.'

Tonks sat back in her chair. 'I can't eat any more of this, it's just…' she paused and steam blew out of her ears.

Harry laughed as Tonks waved to the waiter. Harry paid and they left, emerging back into the clean air.

They walked back into Diagon Alley, finding that the hubbub about his appearance had turned into a rumour that buzzed in the air. Everyone was talking about a sighting of The-Boy-Who-Lived and on more than one occasion a few people stared at Harry for a few seconds before shaking their head and turning back to their conversations.

The third time this happened, Harry frowned.

'What's the matter?' Tonks asked.

'No one realises who I am.' Harry answered. 'I guess people can't imagine that the boy who saved the wizarding world would be as small and pathetic as me.'

'Shut up. If everything you told me about your muggles is correct, then you'll fill out in no time. You're young too, you'll definitely be taller than me and your parents were pretty thin themselves, so it stands to reason.'

Harry shrugged.

Tonks stopped and turned on her heel in an attempt to be graceful but toppled over. Harry helped her to her feet as her face flushed scarlet.

'Well Harry m'dear. It's been a pleasure but I have to be getting home now.' She said, giggling as her hair flushed a dull mousy brown before returning to its shocking bubblegum pink.

'Nice to meet you Tonks.' Harry said picking up a book that had toppled out of her dungarees and handing it to her.

'Cheers Harry, see you on the train!' Tonks turned on her heel again and vanished with a loud cracking sound.

Harry smiled, 'I love magic.' He said to himself and turned himself, walking toward the elevator.

He travelled back to the car park and waited in the warm afternoon sun for the Dursleys.

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Harry decided that the best course for starting Hogwarts was to arrive as well equipped as possible. Upon returning home from Diagon Alley with his new haul of books, he started immediately upon The Most Glorious and Honourable House of Potter, locking himself in his new bedroom away from the noise of the Dursley's eternally screaming television set. He swept the rest of his books into his trunk, separating the ones he'd already completed and sat at the desk staring at the embossed leather cover.

There was a coat of arms on the front of the book, of a great stag that looked left and right while resting between its great many-forked antlers shone a gleaming five-pointed star. Deciding that the need to know what he was going into more than what he had come from, he put the book aside and picked up _The Ninth Age of Britain, Volume One _and opened the cover.

The magical history of Britain, it turned out, was roughly divided into nine Ages. The First Age had been Pre-history, before the Celts had arrived and people had raised incredibly powerful and mysterious artefacts such as Stonehenge.

The Second Age was the time of the Celts and the people considered to be the native British. That age had ended with the destruction of Ynys Mon or Anglesey by the Roman invasion.

The Roman, or Third Age was the briefest and saw the greatest upheaval in magical Britain with the fading of the Druids power and the rise of Christianity and endured until Rome's retreat from Britain.

The Fourth Age lasted a little over two-hundred years and covered the time between Rome's retreat and the Saxon conquest of Britain, leaving only Wales, Cornwall and some parts of Scotland untouched.

The Fifth Age was the resurgent rise of Christianity, which saw the suppression of British gods and traditional magical ways of life which lasted until the Viking invasions ushered in the Sixth Age around the year nine-hundred.

The Sixth Age was a time of great power for Britain as the introduction of the Norse gods to the islands awoke great power in the land, to the degree that great wizards and witches learned to survive the Christian oppression of magical talent and formed their own small societies, culture and safe havens, one of the most noteworthy and famous in the modern day being Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The Seventh Age began with the Norman Conquest of Britain and the almost simultaneous and complete separation of magical society from muggle.

The Eighth Age was bought about by the discovery of the New World and the secession of malcontents who fled both the magical and muggle worlds to embark on finding a new place to call home and raise their children and own societies. This is most commonly referred to as The Second Dark Age.

The Ninth age was started after the destruction of Nazi Germany, the first war that had truly affected magician and muggle alike since the Romans had started their war of conquest against the whole world. So much magical blood and power, mighty artefacts, great teachings and knowledge was lost during the Second Dark Age that the Ninth Age had been one of steady decline. Magicians of the twentieth century know less about the universe around them and its laws than had been known by the meanest, most ignorant hedge-wizard and huckster almost two thousand years ago. Even the most powerful witches and wizards of the last two centuries knew less about the wider world of magic and its history than some muggle scholars had known in their time.

Harry read until his eyes would no longer focus on the print and he slumped down on his bed without removing his glasses or putting the book down. It seemed to him that over time, magic which was by its very nature a wild and unpredictable thing had been pulled and cinched into a semblance of order by the people in power at the time. Before Rome had gained dominance over Britain, it had been the most magically potent island in the world, enjoying more magical traditions, gods and routes to power than could be found anywhere in the world. Similar could be said for places like ancient Persia, Greece and China, all of which had fallen under the force of new, upstart nations that wished to enforce their own rules over the world.

That explained places like Diagon Alley, the reason wizardkind chose to live hidden from muggles and the decline of pureblood magical families that he had read about in _A History of Magic_: after centuries of war, strife, bickering and religious oppression, the will of magicians to carry on the struggle against a world where they were the extreme minority had waned. Many magicians chose lives where they lived disguised as muggles, in their cities and towns.

_The Ninth Age of Britain, Volume One_ spoke at length of the damage that had been caused to the earth in the Eighth Age during the industrial revolution. Mankind had always made greedy use of the world's resources, taking what they wanted with little regard for the wider consequences, but industrial automation had allowed mugglekind to rape the world at speeds and to degrees never before seen. The world had suffered and the amount of wild magic, the raw stuff of wonder that was the lifeblood of every living thing, that magicians tapped into every time they used magic had become weak, intermittent and in some places, dead. In areas stripped completely bare of nature, poisoned and corrupted, magic became physically strenuous for magicians to achieve and larger effects could even cost them their lives as their bodies tried to fuel the magic that would normally have been drawn from the world around them.

It was with these thoughts buzzing through his head that Harry slept, the great tome on his lap. He saw the great endless forests of Britain and the world being torn down, replaced with countless acres of crops which in turn fell to the grey and black of cities, crisscrossed by cancerous veins of roads and motorways. He felt the sorrow of the earth as she struggled to breathe, as her airs were choked with poisonous fumes from factories. The world shuddered and coughed while Harry became aware of a single figure standing on top of one of the factories, his great meaty fists resting on the vast circumference of his waist. The figure was laughing great wet bellows and Harry saw how his fat, jowly face jiggled with each exhalation. Vernon Dursley stood laughing as the world died. Harry screamed as the surface of the world shuddered.

He turned from Vernon, but everywhere he ran was filled with factories and towers topped with bellowing, greedy men and women. He ran until bought up short by a figure lay on the ground before him. He walked closer and saw that the creature was a man whose skin was slick with blood. He stared up at Harry and his face was pale. A pair of great antlers grew from his forehead. His mouth moved but no words came out so Harry knelt down beside him. The man's breath smelled like fresh pine needles and the earth after summer rain and his words sounded like the wing beats of birds and the booming rush of waves on the shore.

'The world is dying, Harry Potter.' He said, the last word turning into a sigh.

Harry looked back into the eyes which were green and dead. The face wore glasses and had a lightning bolt shaped scar on the forehead. Harry screamed.

He screamed as the body rotted before him, the eyes turning to liquid and the flesh falling off the bones which then fell to dust.

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Harry woke with a start, slaked in cold sweat. The memory of a dream hung at the edges of his mind but the details evaded him. All he could remember was Vernon Dursley laughing and something about antlers.

The sun was thin outside his window, still ruddy with the glow of dawn. Suddenly and completely awake, Harry rose and dressed quietly. Uncle Vernon would be up soon for work and Harry wanted to be away before that. He silently unlocked his bedroom door and crept down the stairs. He took some of the magical sweets and pastries he'd bought the previous day and stuffed them into the bag that held several of his books and a large picnic blanket. Then he deactivated the house alarm, opened the front door and slipped out.

He walked along the street which was damp from a small rain that had fallen in the night and headed out onto the nearby fields where he knew that if he waited, his friends would come.

He set himself up in the shade created by a dead tree that had been struck by lightning before he was born and took out The Ninth Age again, continuing from where he had left off.

The book mainly concerned itself with Britain but did include interactions with other wizarding nations. In the wake of the Second World War, the events of which in the wizarding world had hinged around the actions of Nazi mysticism and a powerful dark lord named Grindlewald who had eventually been defeated by none other than Albus Dumbledore.

Following World War Two, Britain had been served by a long series of inept, weak or just apathetic Ministers for Magic. Ever since Harold Bastable, the first post-war Minster for Magic, the interests of the magical folk and creatures of Britain and the Commonwealth had become side-lined by politicians who were more interested in advancing the interests of growth at all costs than the health of the world.

The International Confederation of Wizards had the remit to make significant changes in the world but instead busied themselves with increasing the invisibility of wizarding kind to muggles and undermining the work of campaigners who fought for reintegration.

The British Wizengamot had, since the fall of Lord Voldemort, concerned itself exclusively with the pursuit and destruction of dark magicians all over the land, their impressive potential powers diverted from ruling wizardkind to a paranoid persecution of and obsessing over the nature of dark magic. They had, since the Eighth Age, fallen from being the arbiters of British magical justice to the level of bureaucratic box-tickers more interested in avoiding investigations than actually achieving anything that could enrich wizardkind.

Harry continued as the sun climbed, drinking a bottle of pumkin juice and eating a sausage roll apparently made with meat from razortusk boar, a rare magical version of the wild boar that was reduced to small pockets in wildest Cornwall and otherwise raised on farms.

He took the last sip of his juice and jumped as something ran over his leg. He looked down to see a pair of tiny diamond-bright eyes staring at him.

Nidhogg had retuned.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	9. Part 9

Readers: I realise that I have taken a few liberties, injecting what I feel is some much needed history and background into the pre-Hogwarts section and made Harry much more realistically inquisitive. After all, the idea that he'd have a month back at the Dursley's an learn NOTHING about the wizarding world is absolutely absurd. I understand JKR's reasons for these choices, but that doesn't mean I like them. He'll be on his way soon enough.

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc, but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects.

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Chapter 11: From the Heart.

Nidhogg nodded at Harry and raised himself up so their eyes were level.

'Good morning.' Harry said, unexpectedly relieved to see the tiny snake.

'… Morning…' Nidhogg hissed in a tiny voice.

'You can talk now?' Harry cried excitedly.

Nidhogg shook his head, 'Trying. Small.'

'You mean you're too young to speak properly?'

Nidhogg nodded.

'Right, I guess practice makes perfect?'

Another nod.

'Is your mother or Salatin coming?'

'No.'

Harry was disappointed because he missed the elder snakes, but their well-wishing had been pretty comprehensive the last time he had seen them and snakes were rarely inclined to say anything that wasn't necessary.

Nidhogg's midsection was visibly swollen and he was a little slower than normal

'Been feasting since we got back?' Harry asked.

The little snake nodded then curled up on Harry's lap, eyes half-closed.

Harry stroked the tiny head with the tip of his thumb and resumed his reading.

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Harry read until the sun was at the very top of the sky, when, too hot to continue, he pulled off most of his clothes and jumped into the large pond to cool off.

The pond had always been a safe place for him due to the fact that Dudley couldn't swim.

He emerged a few minutes later, dried himself while remarking on how he had already gained a noticeable amount of weight and his ribs weren't as painfully obvious then dressed in his shorts and lay, basking in the shade of another tree to avoid burning.

The book had moved onto a long and very dry section on international wizarding relations. Harry put the book aside when he realised that it seemed quite biased in that member states of the International Confederates of Wizards were considered universally friendly whist non-members were enemies.

The best thing that life with the Dursley's had taught him was not to generalise. He put _The Ninth Age_ aside and started on a book that was actually a primer for magical imigrants and muggleborns about magical Britain and its wizarding society.

It was a fascinating read and quite troubling in many respects. Where muggle Britain had changed hugely in the last two centuries, the social and political landscape for magicians had scarcely changed at all.

For example, the majority of wizarding power was divided up into three zones of influence. The first and largest was a series of great houses.

The book listed the thirteen current great houses: Malfoy, Diggory, Nott, Longbottom, Lane, Stangroom, McClaggan, Zabini, Gajewska, Tudor, Lovegood, Greengrass and Parkinson. The war against Voldemort had caused a huge shake-up in the houses, leaving several great houses 'inactive' which meant that the family currently had no of-age head and was not receiving rents from properties that they owned. After fifty years of inactivity, any house great or otherwise was dissolved and its assets put up for auction. It was by this method that new families could grow and become houses themselves.

The book gave an exhaustive list of inactive houses, three of which still held great house status which could be reactivated as soon as they had a legal head. Harry looked down the list and saw, fourth from top, _Potter_. It's nearness to the top meant that it was still safe from dissolution for many years, being inactive as it had been since his parent's deaths, which meant he only had to wait the six years until he turned seventeen and could become the legal head of Great House Potter.

The idea made him shudder with delight. How different his life was compared to less than a month ago.

He carried on reading. The great houses owned large parts of the British Isles, including Ireland, Brittany and parts of the old British Empire (which magically speaking were still part of Britain and officially ruled by the queen) and they had rights of ownership to whatever happened on those lands. Magicians very rarely owned their own property, except on land owned by the Ministry or in muggle areas (many of which were still actually owned by wizarding families but managed by third parties such as local councils) and instead paid rents directly to the landowning family who were legally responsible for the upkeep and safety of their lands.

The second major power was the Ministry which, while the smaller of the two, had its powerbase centralised in London, had a single head - currently the Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge - and was considered overall more powerful than the naturally squabbling, disjointed and disorganised Great Houses. The Ministry was responsible for ensuring that the magical world kept moving. It kept the peace via the Department for Magical Law Enforcement which included the Auror Office, licensed and controlled dangerous beasts and magical creatures, was responsible for keeping mugglekind in the dark and many other functions.

The Minister himself sat beneath only three individuals in all of Britain: The muggle prime minister, the queen herself and the head of the Wizenagemot, Albus Dumbledore.

The Wizenagemot was the third zone of power and was a council of the most powerful, influential and wise witches and wizards from across Britain. It was responsible for the creation of new laws that the Ministry was responsible for implementing, holding criminal and civil trials and hearing appeals against decisions taken by the Ministry. It was also the body responsible for the dissolution of dead or long-term inactive houses and the sale or redistribution of their holdings.

Wizarding Britain was also in no way democratic. The Wizenagemot elected its own members, head and was responsible for choosing the minster for magic who would have to defend his office at the annual vote every year. Seats on the wizenagemot were highly prized and for life unless a member was dismissed in a vote of no confidence. Many members of the great houses had representatives on the council who spoke for them.

The whole thing was incredibly convoluted and made very little sense to Harry who suspected that most magicians understood very little about the society they were going to live in.

According to the book, the three zones of power all allowed a house-less witch or wizard great opportunities to advance in the wizarding world. Harry somehow doubted it would be a simple thing, however and after an hour of struggling with the complicated and thorny subject of wizarding life, he gave up and started reading up on magic, pulling out a couple of books on the subject of basic alchemy and potion making.

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He maintained his own schedule for the remaining two weeks before the start of school, spending his time either in the Dursley's garden or in the park with the pool. He absorbed books, devouring knowledge and filled the gaping expanses of his enforced ignorance.

He practiced wand movements and invocations using a stick in place of his wand, learned the names and attributes of dozens of potion ingredients and memorised the locations of lots of star constellations for astronomy classes.

His health and weight had both improved since he stopped serving the Dursleys and as Dudley was no longer terrorising him and running his name down, he spent a few afternoon playing cricket and rounders with some other locals. He found it strange that they were so sullen and moody every time someone mentioned going back to school as he couldn't wait. It took all of his self-control not to blurt out the truth about himself and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He made the decision to speak to Uncle Vernon when he came home from work on Friday the thirtieth of August. He waited until Vernon had finished his dinner and desert, read his post and before he had chance to settle in front of the television, spoke up.

'Uncle Vernon?'

Vernon jumped so hard that almost all of his impressive bulk left the armchair in a single movement. He flushed scarlet immediately and glared at Harry. 'Yes, what is it?'

'Sorry to bother you, but tomorrow's the day I need that lift to King's Cross station so I can get the train to school.'

Vernon twitched as he heard the word "school". 'So, what do you want me to do about it?'

Harry bit his tongue, desperate to try out a hamster transfiguration charm. 'You agreed that you'd give me a lift there. I have quite a lot of things to take.'

Vernon paled. 'Time?'

'I need to take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock.' Harry said.

His aunt and uncle stared.

'Platform what?'

'Nine and three-quarters.'

'Don't talk rubbish,' said Uncle Vernon. 'There is no platform nine and three-quarters.'

'It's on my ticket.'

'Barking,' said Uncle Vernon, 'howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going to London anyway.'

'Why?'

Vernon's face contorted and Harry saw he was about to shout about not asking questions but caught himself. 'Dudley's got an appointment at a… private hospital to have that ruddy tail removed. Operation's first thing Monday morning.'

Harry supressed a snigger, thanked his uncle and went to his room to practice the movements for a spell to check to see if milk has gone sour and pack his trunk.

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Saturday passed in an agonising crawl.

Harry was restless, hardly slept and spent the morning unpacking and repacking his trunk, speaking with Nidhogg and when it was impossible that there was no better way to fit his things away, he went swimming in the pool.

When he returned to the Privet Drive and found that it was still only early afternoon, he thought about taking a bus to a town nearby which, according to Wizarding Communities in the Commuter Belt, had a much higher wizard to muggle ratio than normal but thought that the time would be better spent practicing and went to the garden while the Dursleys locked themselves in the house.

The following night, Harry snatched only a handful of hours sleep which were punctuated with dreams of goblin rebellions, great battles and the stories of Taliesin the bard and his adventures in Rome.

He woke before dawn, checked everything over again, secured Nidhogg in the trunk at his own request and went down stairs.

He went outside to see if any of the snakes had showed then enjoyed the early hours with a piece of toast –dry because he felt sick with anticipation.

Deciding on a peace offering, he started cooking. Sausages, eggs, bacon, tomato, fried bread, black pudding and baked beans were all cooked when he heard Petunia move upstairs. It had to be her – Vernon made the house shake when he rose. She was always the first up at weekends. He set the sausages on the table next to the rest of the food and felt a flare of anger at his aunt. A cold shudder ran through him and he rolled his shoulders and neck, feeling the bones pop. Petunia walked into the dining room as he set down a pot of fresh brewed coffee.

'Y-you…' She stammered. She looked like she had been hit by a wall of liquid nitrogen that had frozen her to the spot.

'Aunt,' Harry said, putting the pot down, 'I know you don't like me, that you hate the fact that I've taken up space in your life, your money and that you were lumbered with me when Voldemort killed my parents.'

Petunia made to speak, opening and closing her mouth like a fish trying to breathe air.

Something about her pinched, horsey face and offensive, superior attitude that made him snap at her. 'No, let me speak.' He said, feeling a cold surge in his chest. Petunia closed her mouth. 'You treated me like an animal, worse. You degraded me, dehumanised me, abused me and tried to destroy my nature. You hate me despite the fact that without me you would have been killed or enslaved years ago.' The cold swelled in him and he stepped toward her. 'You owe me your life and your freedom. You are my mother's only sister, my flesh and blood and you will never treat me as something beneath you again. Today I leave you, your monster of a husband and your cretin of a son to take my place in the world you tried to steal from me. I hope I never see you again, but you owe me, Petunia Dursley. You _owe_ me.'

Tears had appeared, rimming her eyes red and her tight, practiced posture had faltered into round-shouldered misery. 'M-m-my-' she started, but Harry cut her off.

'No. You've said enough. I could have ignored you like you ignored the bruises that Dudley laid across my skin and bones since the day I could walk, but I have chosen to make a last kind gesture to you. Sit and eat then when you leave me at King's Cross later never have anything to do with me again. Am I understood?'

She nodded as the tears spilled free, creating dark spots on her gold silk blouse and she walked around the table. 'Pull yourself together.' He said, walking back into the kitchen. When he returned, putting down a plate of buttered toast, he saw that she had indeed, pulled herself together. She was sitting straight again, her eyes barely betraying a hint of tears and her chin back up but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

He sat across the table and took a deep breath.

'What have I done?' She said.

'What?' He said, turning to her.

She looked at him. 'I didn't say anything.' She said, averting her eyes quickly.

'Whatever.'

'Just because I agreed to that doddering old fool…' she said miserably.

He was watching her through the corner of his eye and her mouth had not moved.

_Why does he have to be so much better than my son; so much better, more honest, more caring. Too good, just like _her_._

Her mouth was not moving. He was hearing her thoughts. There was no other explanation.

Vernon arrived in the room full of bluster. Disgusted, Harry stood. 'I've made breakfast for you.'

Vernon muttered something under his breath and turned to his wife. 'Petunia?'

She shook her head in a tight twitch that looked it should have snapped her neck. 'Just sit Vernon, Harry's leaving today and he's made us all breakfast.'

Stunned, Vernon sat in his normal seat and muttered at Harry something that could have been either thanks or a notification that he had egg on his face. Harry ignored him and served himself.

Dudley entered the room a few minutes later. He had bags under his eyes and had developed a nervous twitch since Hagrid had given him the tail. He whimpered when he saw Harry sat at the table and looked at his parents with wide, scared eyes.

'Come and sit down, darling.' Petunia said. 'Harry has made us all breakfast.'

Dudley stammered and stuttered for almost a minute before Vernon slapped the table with one massive hand. 'For god's sake Dudley, sit down!' he roared.

Dudley scuttled to the nearest chair and sat, perched on the edge of the chair, tense like he was getting ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

They sat in silence for an hour while Harry, Petunia and Vernon picked nervously at the food. Dudley, consistent as ever, quickly recovered from his fear and began shovelling food into his mouth.

Harry left the table disgusted.

The Dursleys were ready for nine o'clock and Vernon helped Harry load his trunk and new belongings into the boot of his car.

They drove in silence into London.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	10. Part 10

There is no reason that I can see for making Harry arrive at the last minute to King's Cross other than to have him forced into meeting the Weasleys. Also, it is implied that muggleborns get a lot of help integrating into the magical world from Hogwarts staff etc, but what about kids whose parents didn't go to Hogwarts but emigrated to Britain? It makes no sense that there isn't some kind of assistant on hand at King's Cross to help out.

Right, the last chapter was HUGE! Much longer than I had planned, but I felt that Harry leaving the Dursleys was something that needed a bit more attention.

I also realise that I'm over 20,000 words in and the heir of Great House Potter hasn't even got to school yet. Don't fret.

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc, but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 12: From Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

The Ice cleared from Harry during the drive into London and was steadily replaced with a creeping anticipation that filled him with horror.

He was the heir to a once powerful magical family, raised by ignorant bigots who had tried to crush his innate talent out of him. What if when he arrived at school he was no good?

Thoughts like this wracked him as they passed into the metropolis and increased as he saw the first signs for Euston and King's Cross St. Pancras stations.

Vernon pull over in a drop-off bay and tugged Harry's trunk from the boot of the car then loaded it onto a cart and wheeled it into the station which Harry thought was strangely kind until Vernon turned on him with a nasty grin.

'Here you go then boy. Good luck finding platform nine and three-quarters!' He released a bark of laughter. 'They don't seem to have built it yet, do they?'

Harry looked at the arrival and departures board. There were nines and tens up there, but no nine and three-quarters.

'Have a good term.' Vernon said with a cruel smile before turning on his heel and stalking back to the car.

Harry was left standing alone in the middle of a packed train station that was filled with tourists and gumbling business people in suits. He had a massive trunk with him that he couldn't lift by himself and a ticket for a train that was to depart from a platform that didn't exist.

A cold sweat broke out on his forehead and he looked around frantically. He pushed the cart over to an guard wearing a luminous green vest printed with "Information" and tapped him on the shoulder.

'Excuse me sir, could you tell me the way to platform nine and three-quarters?'

The guard, his face shiny with perspiration in the building morning heat frowned at him. 'Nine and three-quarters? Look kid, it's too hot and too early to be bothering with stupid questions, there is no nine and three-quarters.' He turned and walked toward a group of tourists who were arguing over a large map of the London Underground.

Harry stood, shaking slightly with anticipation. Looking up at a large clock on the wall, he realised that there was less than thirty minutes to go.

That's when he spotted her.

A tall black girl with gleaming black hair that fell straight to her shoulders was striding toward a barrier with a long broom over one shoulder. She was wearing a short gold and scarlet kilt, knee length white socks and high-heeled shoes with a black crop top bearing the name 'Wyrd Sisters' across the chest. Behind her, a man who must have been her father was pushing a cart like Harry's which was loaded high with trunks, bags and a large cat carry box.

That settled it. Harry pushed his cart forward to intercept her shouting 'Excuse me, excuse me!'

Ten feet away, the girl looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

'Excuse me, are you going to Hogwarts?' Harry asked, hushing the last word conspirationally.

'Yep. First year?' The girl asked, looking him over.

Harry was pleased that he had worn his best Diagon Alley clothes when confronted with the girl's piercing gaze. He nodded. 'I'm Harry Potter and-'

The girl's startled expression silenced him. 'You're Harry Potter?' She said, astonishment on her face.

Harry nodded, 'Yes, can you help me?'

'Harry Potter, as in the one that destroyed You-Know-Who?'

'Yes!'

'Who's this, Angelina?' The man asked as he heaved the cart over to them. His face was a sheen of sweat.

The girl turned around, quick-stepped over to the man and leaned in close. 'Dad, this is Harry Potter, y'know, The-Boy-Who-Lived!

The man's expression was blank.

The girl punched her father on the arm, 'The one who defeated the Dark Lord!'

Vague comprehension washed over the man's face. 'Right, nice to meet you.' He said before pushing the cart onward to the turnstiles.

'That's my dad,' the girl said looking disappointed, 'big, stupid muggle.' She held out a hand to him and he saw perfectly manicured nails almost two inches long. 'I'm Angelina, Angelina Johnson: Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. You'll know all about that though.'

Harry shook her hand and smiled. 'Nice to meet you and not really. I was raised by muggles you see.'

The girl laughed, revealing bright white teeth that were almost too perfect to be real. 'Then you know what they're like, bloody useless. I'm half-and-half, mum's a witch.'

'I'm…' Harry started.

'You're Halfblood, son of the second greatest Gryffindor seeker in the last three-hundred years, James Potter.' She said as if it were common knowledge.

'What?'

'Your dad, epic, legendary chaser? In the top five Gryffindor chasers of all time, better statistics than most professionals?'

Harry's mind was swimming. When would he stop being the last to know _everything_? 'I don't know anything much about my parents or magic, the muggles who raised me never told me anything about… anything really.'

'Bloody hell, Harry.' Alica said, eyes wide in astonishment. 'You come with me, I'll be sitting with the team on the train. Wood will probably kiss your robe when he finds out who you are.'

Angelina reached down and took his hand firmly in hers, pulling him and his cart along to where her father was waiting.

He hugged Angelina, kissed her and pressed a twenty pound note into her hand. 'Here you go honey, have a great time at school. She smiled, hugged him back and waved her ticket to a guard, whose expression became suddenly vacant, allowing her to walk through. Harry did the same and watched as the formerly alert guard's face became slack and dream-like. He waved his hand in front of the guard's face and looked at Angelina.

'Confundus charm on all the tickets,' she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry pushed his cart though as Angelina took out a wand that had somehow been secreted on or in her skirt, waved it at her own cart and muttered '_locomotor'_ and the cart swung around and started following a few feet behind Angelina.

'I thought we weren't allowed to use magic before we were seventeen?' Harry asked, staring.

Angelina shrugged. With all the magic families in the area who can't wipe their noses without magic? The ministry would probably explode if they tried to keep track of every spell used. Nah, I'm third year this year and everyone does it according to Fred and George.'

'Who?'

'Fred and George Weasley, they're twins and the Beaters on the team,' Angelina said, 'You'll probably get on like a house on fire if you're anything like your dad.'

'Why?'

Angelina laughed again, 'Sorry, I keep forgetting you don't know anything. James Potter and his friends were some of the most well-known pranksters in school history, real legends!'

Harry smiled, wondering how much he'd be able to learn about his parents as he walked side-by-side Angelina toward the platforms. 'Do you think I'd be able to do that?' He asked, nodding his head in the direction of her cart.

She shrugged, 'Don't see why not. Give it a go.'

Harry, feeling warm and incredibly confident in Angelina's tall and slightly intimidating presence, pulled his wand from inside his shirt, cleared his throat and tapped his cart lightly. '_Locomotor_.'

Nothing happened.

Angelina shrugged. 'Think about what you want the cart to do when you say the words. The words are just a focus for what you want the spell to do. And put some power into it, some uumph!'

Harry did as she said, mentally telling the cart to follow him and willed it to happen as he said the word again. The cart quivered, the four wheels spinning wildly for a second before it turned on the spot and took up a position a couple of feet behind him.

'Nice.' Angelina said, showing all her teeth again before resuming their walk.

They followed signs for platforms nine and ten and walked out onto a modern platform.

'Where now?' Harry asked.

Angelina pointed one talon – for that is what her nails actually resembled, filed and slightly pointed as they were – at a pillar between platforms nine and ten, then walked straight at it, closing her eyes a second before her nose hit the brickwork.

She disappeared through the wall and her cart followed a few seconds later.

Harry's mouth fell open.

He walked up to pillar, slightly hesitant and put his hand to the stone. Which wasn't there!

His hand disappeared up to the elbow in the brick and he stepped through. For a moment he felt utterly cold, like someone had dipped him in almost freezing water, but just as quickly stepped though onto a busy platform next to which rested, wreathed in steam, a massive and gleaming red steam engine.

The platform was full of people, many dressed in absurd mockery of muggle clothes. He saw one woman wearing a violent orange dress that didn't acutally touch her body but levitated a few inches off her skin. A man was wearing a neon-blue fedora and khaki suit with a gold tie.

Harry spotted Angelina jumping around excitedly with a group of girls screaming about something. He approached and was caught in a crushing hug by a girl with extravagantly long blonde hair that smelled like raspberries. He was passed around the group who all hugged him and, in incredibly high voices, told him how great it was to meet him and how "awesome" he was for defeating You-Know-Who.

Head spinning, he left Angelina to giggling and wandered along the platform. Near the end of the train was a conductor who asked for his ticket, gave him another one and took his cart and trunk.

Hoping Nidhogg would be alright among his shirts, Harry walked back up the platform looking for Angelina. He passed an oddly familiar sharp-faced blonde boy and woman, both with superior sneers on their angular faces but decided not to speak to them. Overhead, a clock told him that there were twelve minutes until departure and that students should take their seats on board.

Continuing to look for Angelina, he ran stomach-first into a cart pushed by a tall, well-built boy of around fourteen with bright red hair and a cheeky, grinning face.

'Sorry about that mate.' The boy said, helping Harry up from the floor where he had crumpled, breathless.

'George, you clumsy git!' said another boy, absolutely identical to the first.

'I know Fred, I have apologised.' Said the first.

Behind the two boys came a short, portly woman, a boy of around Harry's age and a small girl perhaps a year younger. All had the same flaming hair.

Harry went over to the boy, 'Are you Ron?' he asked.

The boy nodded, looking fearful.

'I'm Harry Potter, I met your dad Arthur in Diagon Alley last week.' Harry said, extending his hand.

The boy, who had a dirty smear on his nose and was dressed almost as badly as Harry had been before meeting Madame Malkin, stared at Harry's hand and nodded, mouth agape. The girl's eyes went wide and she hid in her mother's skirts who had herself a look of utter shock on her face.

'My word,' the woman said, stepping forward, 'I thought Arthur had been lying when told us he'd met the great Harry Potter on his way to work. I had no idea. You've grown so much!' She gushed, pulling Harry into a tight, yet soft hug.

Harry froze, still not entirely used to any embrace that wasn't an attempt to break his ribs by Dudley.

The woman released him and clasped his face in her hands. 'You look so much like your father! I always knew you would, of course. You were the spitting image of him when you were born and always obsessed with brooms! You have your mother's eyes too, absolutely exact. Oh my dear boy it is so good to see you again after all these years!'

Harry was stunned, 'I'm sorry, but I don't remember you.'

'Of course you don't,' the woman laughed, 'you haven't seen me since you were, oh, about eight months old. Since before your parents went into hiding of course…' She tailed off, her eyes filled with sadness.

'I…' Harry started but faltered when he literally had nothing to say.

'I'm Molly Weasley,' the woman said, then gestured to the girl, boy and twins, 'this is Ginny, Ron and those two over there are Fred and George, I don't know if you saw him but another son of mine is called Percy.'

'Has he got,' Harry held his hands up either side of his head, 'too?'

Molly laughed and nodded. 'It's a family trademark, don't you know? Please excuse us, Harry while I take Ronald to drop his bags off. She pulled Ron and Ginny along with their cart and into the steam.

Harry shook his head, amazed.

A piercing whistle made him turn around and he saw Angelina and the other girls getting on the train. 'C'mon Harry, hurry up!' she shouted, beckoning for him to join her.

He ran toward the train and climbed aboard.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	11. Part 11

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc, but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 13: On Board the Hogwarts Express

Harry followed Angelina into a compartment on the train and sat down, mind reeling and utterly overwhelmed. Angelina kissed all her friends and they walked in that way that only girls of a certain age walk out of sight before she sat down opposite Harry.

'You're brave, wearing that before you've even been sorted.' She said to Harry as she smoothed out her kilt and crossed her legs.

'What do you mean?' Harry asked, trying not to stare.

'The shirt, that's Gryffindor Scarlet.' She said, pointing the same colour out on her skirt.

'Oh yeah, I know. Professor McGonagall changed it from green.'

'Minerva McGonagall?' Angelina looked stunned, 'The head of Gryffindor house, transfigured a shirt into her house's colours for you?'

Harry nodded. 'So what?'

'So, she must like you. McGonagall doesn't like anyone. She's probably the hardest teacher to please in the whole school! Doing that pretty much means she wants you in our house.'

Harry smiled. Such an acclamation made him immensely proud.

'It's pretty much a sure thing anyway, given that your folks were both Gryffindors, but still you should be bloody proud of that! I don't know If she'd even know my name if I wasn't on the house team.'

Harry was about to reply when the door to the compartment was pulled open and a burly, powerful looking boy a little older than Angelina walked in with the Weasley twins, a pale girl with large brown eyes and another girl who looked a little snooty with thick ringletted hair and a stud in her nose.

The boy looked from Angelina to Potter and spoke in a thick Scottish accent. 'Angie, who's this?'

Alica grinned. 'Oliver Wood, Fred and George Weasley, Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet, I'd like you to meet Harry Potter.

The standard silence that Harry had come to expect happened, broken a moment later by George laughing, 'Wow, I can't believe I almost killed the Boy-Who-Lived with a luggage cart!'

They all crammed into the compartment and Harry found himself bombarded as usual by the seemingly endless tirade of questions about his childhood, Voldemort and his parents. As usual everyone was amazed that he had very little actual experience in the wizarding world. Apparently it had become common opinion that he must have been introduced to the wizarding world in Brittany or America to avoid being bombarded by his own fame.

After the train had been underway for a couple of hours, discussion of quidditch became the focus of all conversation. Alicia, as the newest recruit to the team explained the rules to Harry and how the three different types of ball, the single quaffle, pair of bludgers and tiny, elusive golden snitch, were to be thrown, beaten and caught in order to play the game.

They paused when a tiny old woman with white hair walked down the train with a cart filled with food and drink in all shapes, types and sizes. Everyone's mouths fell open when Harry produced a handful of golden galleons and bought some of everything from the cart and insisted that everyone share it around.

A few minutes later, Wood tapped Harry's knee and said, through a mouth full of pumpkin pasty. 'It's just a pity that first years don't get to play.'

Harry's heart sank. 'Why not?'

'Well first years aren't allowed their own brooms, you see,' put in Angelina Johnson, 'you get flying lessons throughout the year and as soon as you're safe then you're allowed a broom.'

'It's really rare that second years get to play to be fair,' Said George who was playing exploding snap with Alicia.

'In fact this is probably the youngest team in long time.' Said Fred finished his brother's sentence.

Harry fell into a brooding glumness for a while, watching the others who would all be enjoying flying free on their brooms in no time while he would be land-bound except for flying lessons.

An hour after they had eaten, Wood cleared his throat. 'Right Harry, I hate to be rude, but me and the guys have some pretty hush-hush strategy to be talking before we get to school.'

'Shut up, Oliver. You can't be serious, term hasn't even started yet!' Groaned Alicia who was in the same year as Wood.

'I'm the captain now and Gryffindor hasn't won the cup since Charlie left the school. This year _we will win_.' Wood growled.

Charlie was the Weasley twin's second oldest brother and had been seeker and captain of the house team up until he had left school just after Wood had started. Wood idolised Charlie as the epitome of a captain and desperately wanted to follow in his footsteps. The rest of the team joined in with Angelia against Wood's dismissal of Harry from the cart, especially after he had bought them all lunch.

'He just spent almost five galleons on food for us!' Angelina spat at Wood, her nails scratching the varnished wood of the table that Wood had created by charming a tray into a larger size. It was propped up by a similarly charmed pair of fizzy drinks cans.

'It's fine, I understand!' Shouted Harry over the noise. 'I understand what you mean Oliver, I really do. I'll just go and wander around and get into my robes.' Gesturing to Fred and George he said, 'I saw your brother earlier, I might go and find him.'

Fred laughed, 'Good luck with that, he's probably hiding in the loo, crying about how much he misses mum!'

Harry got up and left the compartment to roars of laughter followed by a cry of pain from Wood who had apparently been slapped by Angelina.

'See you at the Gryffindor table, Harry!' shouted Fred and George as Harry slid the door closed and headed down the car grinning.

He had friends! People who seemed genuinely interested in him and they had interests in common! All he had to do next was figure out a way to get his own broom and onto the house team. The idea of following in his father's footsteps and playing quidditch was too potent a dream to ignore.

And why had he ever imagined wanting to be sorted into any other house than Gryffindor when it's members were so friendly?

He walked into the next train car lost in thought and oblivious until he trod on something that made a squelching noise followed by a crack.

He looked down.

He had trodden upon a large toad.

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The toad was most definitely dead. Harry had been stepping harder than normal to balance against the slight rocking motion of the train and his foot had come down straight on the toad's head. He lifted his foot, wrinkled his nose and was about to call for help when a small, chubby boy appeared with a frantic expression on his face.

'Trevor?' He called, looking into a compartment. The inhabitants of the compartment shouted at him to get lost and he closed the door.

Then he turned, looked at Harry who was trying to wipe Toad brains from his shoe, looked down, vomited on the floorand promptly passed out.

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Harry ran over to the boy who was very pale and, stepping around his vomit, tried to sit the boy up.

'Trevor…' he moaned as his eyes fluttered.

Harry's mind whirled and he stood up and was about to run to find help when a bushy-haired girl with large, slightly protuberant front teeth appeared, already in her school robes.

'Neville!' She cried, dropping to her knees beside the boy and slapping his face gently.

The boy moaned the name again and went limp.

The girl looked up at Harry, her eyes sharp and accusing. 'What happened?' She asked sharply.

Harry recoiled, having heard that tone many times before and knowing what normally accompanied it. 'I… I just stepped into the car and stepped on something, just as he came round the corner. Is he looking for a toad?'

'Yes, Trevor. His uncle bought it for him.'

'Right.' Harry said, swallowing hard and pointing to the crushed toad. 'I think I need to apologise to his uncle.'

The girl grimaced at the sight and shuddered. 'You really should be more careful you know. Have you called for help?'

Harry shook his head as the inhabitants of the compartment that had shouted at the boy pulled the door open to see what all the fuss was about. They looked at the boy, Neville on the floor and covered in his own vomit and burst into howls of laughter.

'There's a conductor in the next carriage,' the girl said, scowling at the onlookers, 'go and fetch her.'

Harry nodded and ran toward the end of the carriage which was already becoming busier with other people drawn by the sounds of laughter. He pushed through the door into the next carriage and ran to a tall wizard wearing blue-grey robes and spinning a wand in his fingers.

'Excuse me,' Harry said, pulling the man's sleeve, 'but there's a boy who has passed out and a dead toad in the next carriage along.'

The man laughed and after Harry had explained in more detail, followed him back to where Neville lay, still ashen-faced with his head in the bushy haired girl's lap.

By the time the wizard had created a glass of water out of thin air with a wave of his wand and splashed it over Neville's face, the whole carriage was full to bursting. The boy woke up with a start, saw his audience and that one of the Weasley twins was holding the flat-skulled toad and burst into tears.

The wizard picked the boy up, ushered him into the nearest compartment and shut the door.

The girl stood and patted her robes smooth. 'That was rather careless of you, don't you think?'

Harry was about to reply but wasn't given chance, the girl continued on in the same breath.

'I'm Hermione Granger. That was Neville Longbottom and as I'm sure you've deduced, his toad you stepped on. I think you should be more careful where you're walking in future or at least see about getting the prescription checked for your glasses. You do know that there are spells to correct less than perfect sight, don't you? I'm considering something similar for my front teeth, though my parent's who're dentists insist that braces are the right way to go about fixing them when I'm a little older.'

Harry blew out a breath, not sure how to reply and deciding on starting with her first point. He ran his hands through his hair and started, 'I'm,' but never finished.

The girl's eyes had gone predictably wide and she said, 'You're Harry Potter, I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading from Diagon Alley and you're in loads of them.'

It was true of course, Harry had seen his own name in many of the books he'd read over the last month and the content of them varied from praise for whatever incredible power the infant wizard possessed to grand and speculative theories about how he must have channelled one of the old gods who chose him as their vessel in order to save Britain.

Hermione Granger hadn't stopped, leading Harry to wonder if she'd used magic to make it so she didn't need to breathe. 'You're in _Modern Magical History _and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century._"

'I know,' Harry said, holding up a hand which made Hermione pause, 'I'm also in _The Ninth Age of Britain, Modern Worship of Ancient Gods, Dark Lords and their Vanquishers _and_ Protect Your Home, Protect Your Family; a Self-Help Guide to Home Defence_, but none of the writers actually know anything about me. I only found out I was a wizard a month ago, until then I thought I was just a bit weird and had the worst family in the world.

Hermione had pulled out a small notepad while he was speaking and was jotting down the names of the books in his list that she hadn't read.

'Really? I did read somewhere that you had been taken someplace safe after you defeated You-Know-Who and no one had really seen much of you since then. There were the rumours on the day I was taken to Diagon Alley that you were there of course and the Daily Prophet is always talking about sightings and speculating about your arrival at Hogwarts.'

'It is?'

'Yes, absolutely!' she said, grabbing his hand, 'I'll show you!'

She pulled him along the corridor back past Fred, George and the rest of the Quidditch team and into her own compartment in the last-but-one carriage. Inside there were a few people reading books and newspapers, two playing chess and another asleep. Hermione picked up a satchel and hefted it out into the corridor.

From inside she pulled a leather folder that fell open revealing hundreds of newspaper clippings divided into sections. They went into the next compartment which had a couple of spaces and sat reading over cuttings about Harry and all the wild speculation about his whereabouts and activities. It turned out that there was a small fringe group in Wales that actually considered Harry to be the reincarnation of King Arthur himself and another that believed he was born to fulfil a prophesy that said a person would be born of magic that would be destined to bring balance to the light and dark.

At several points they almost fell off their seats laughing. When they finished the Harry Potter section of her folder, they moved on to the rest and read until the sky was dark and the train started to slow and make its final climb. Hermione reminded Harry to get changed again.

He ran back to the first carriage where the quidditch team gave him his satchel which he had left with them, then got changed in a toilet.

He returned to Hermione as the train pulled into the station.

Hermione took a deep breath and grabbed Harry's hand. 'Here goes. Be calm, just stay calm!' She whispered.

Oddly enough, Harry was suddenly absolutely calm.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	12. Part 12

I have, thanks to HeartsGlow and Smirking Menace, corrected a few inaccuracies in my story. See Chapters 9 and 10 to read them. Also, the reason for not including the house of Black is because it's effectively inactive being without a head.

In this chapter, we see a lot of things that would have happened regardless of Harry's actions short of deciding to attack Malfoy, so you'll see and read parts that you're already familiar with.

I don't see the point of the existence of a side-room for the first years. She doesn't have a lot to say to them, so why bother taking them into separate room? In that respect I feel that the movie version is much better.

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc, but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 14: Snake, Badger, Lion and Raven.

They stepped off the train hand-in-hand, Hermione shaking all over and Harry feeling curiously like he was going home. A sign on the platform read Hogsmeade Station and Hagrid was waiting for them.

'First years this way, first years, all of you come here!' He bellowed, standing at least two feet over the tallest in the crowd.

Harry and Hermione walked toward him, squeezing through the excited students. They passed the Gryffindor quidditch team who all patted Harry on the shoulder and wished him luck.

They all gathered around Hagrid and at a quick count Harry counted between forty and fifty, so it was reasonable to expect between ten and twelve students per house.

'Right, y'all with me? Good.' Hagrid said, doing a quick headcount. 'Now follow me.'

Hagrid led the procession of first years from the train station down a long, winding path through dark trees that was occasionally lit by lanterns. Harry saw the now-toadless Neville Longbottom, pale and downcast glare at him at one point before getting lost in the crowd.

They also saw Ron Weasley plodding along, talking with a couple of boys Harry hadn't met.

From the front of the crowd, Harry saw Hagrid turn around. 'You'll get your first sight'a Hogwarts in a sec,' he called, 'just round this bend.'

There was a loud 'wow' from the crowd as they passed round an outcropping of black rock and were deposited onto a small beach next to a vast black lake.

High above the opposite shore of the lake, resting on what looked like the flattened top of a mountain was a vast castle with soaring towers and a tall palisade wall all around. Stars blazed overhead, brighter and more numerous than Harry had ever seen. Hermione squeezed his hand.

'Welcome, first years!' Hagrid shouted. 'Now, everyone into th'boats, n'more than four t'a boat and follow me!'

Hagrid climbed into the largest boat that rode very low in the water and gripped a pair of oars. Harry looked around and thought how potentially dangerous it was getting so many eleven year olds without lifejackets or instructors to climb into and row boats at night. Apparently wizards didn't think about things like that very much.

Harry helped Hermione into a boat and climbed in next to her. They were joined by Ron Weasley and one of the boy's he'd been talking to. Ron looked terrified as they started rowing.

They talked as they rowed across the lake and it turned out that Hermione was muggleborn and had been raised about an hour's travel away from Harry himself.

As they neared the edge of the lake, a tunnel became visible in the side of the mountain that plunged into the sea. 'That's where were 'headin you lot,' Hagrid said, between pulls on his oars, 'just mind yer 'eads when we get there.'

They pulled on the oars and the tunnel grew as their arms tired.

Eventually they entered the tunnel which was brightly lit with torches and had a large shingle beach inside. Hagrid helped them from the boats one by one, grinning and saying 'Ello there Harry.' When he lifted Hermione free.

'Hi Hagrid.'

'When they were all safe back on dry land, Hagrid scooped up a lantern the size of Harry's torso and led them out of the cave and up a long set of stone steps and up toward the castle.

They walked up to a massive ironbound oak door that was almost black with age and Hagrid paused on the threshold. 'Everybody here?'

A few of them managed a weak nod before Hagid raised a boulder-sized fist and pounded on the door three times.

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Before the sound of the third knock had died, the door swung open on silent hinges, surrounding Hagrid with warm Orange light. He stepped to one side and as the student's eyes adjusted, they saw Professor McGonagall – tall, thin and severe, her mouth a fine pink line and her hair in a tight bun.

'The first years, Professor McGonagall.' Hagrid said with pride.

McGonagall nodded, 'Thank you Hagrid, I'll take them from here.'

She turned and walked into the vast building. The Dursleys' entire house could have fit inside the entrance hall with space to spare. The interior of the castle was filled with flaming torches that cast the distant ceiling into darkness. A magnificent marble staircase swept upwards from the flagstone floor. McGonagall ascended the stairs, rounded a corner and disappeared.

She waited at the top of another flight of marble steps. She could have been a statue.

'Welcome to Hogwarts,' said Professor McGonagall. 'The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

'The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.' She looked directly at Harry for the briefest of moments and he was certain she saw the faintest flicker of a smile on her taut lips. 'The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.'

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair. 'I shall return when we are ready for you,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Please wait quietly.'

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed and looked around. Most of the other first years were fidgeting uneasily or moving from foot to foot.

'Does it really hurt?' He heard Ron ask.

Turning round he shook his head, 'No, they just put some kind of ancient hat on your head and it tells you what house you're in. Simple.'

That seemed to diffused some tension. Hermione leaned in close to him and whispered into his ear, '_Hogwarts: A History_?'

He nodded.

'What's that?' A sharp, sneering voice asked, cutting over the sound of the hubbub beyond the doors. 'Where, where is he?'

Harry turned round and looked for the owner of the voice.

The sharp voice belonged to a very distinctive sharp face. The boy was walking over to him, flanked by a pair of boys who seemed much too tall and large to be eleven years old. 'Is it true?' He said, face to face. 'They're all saying that the famous Harry Potter has at last come to Hogwarts. Well, is it?'

Harry nodded, 'That's me.'

'I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy.'

The name immediately rang a bell in Harry's head. He had read about Great House Malfoy in several books. They had been firmly entrenched in You-Know-Who's confidence during the last war and the first to return to cry their innocence upon his downfall.

Malfoy held out his hand and Harry shook it. Malfoy tried to squeeze his hand, but Harry had had a hard life and lots of very physical work in Petunia's garden and squeezed back until Malfoy's bones ground together and he yanked it back.

Harry smiled.

'Have you met Crabbe and Goyle?' Malfoy said, trying to distract the crowd from the sight of him rubbing his hand by nodding in the direction of the two brutes behind him.

They cracked their knuckles and Harry knew instantly what they were. They might as well have had Dudley's face. He glared back at them as a couple of more normal first years stepped away.

'No, can't say I have.' Harry said, smiling at both. They were nowhere near as big or as intimidating as Dudley.

The pair seemed checked by Harry's resistance to their intimidation and looked at each other nervously.

Draco didn't notice, but turned his attention on Hermione. 'And who might you be?'

Hermione was clearly taken aback by Malfoy's attitude. 'I'm Hermione Granger.'

'Granger? Granger?' Malfoy mused, like he was rolling the name around his memory. 'As in of the Grangers of the Orkneys?'

'No, the Grangers of Salisbury. My parents are dentists.' Hermione said brightly.

Draco sneered and affected an artificial flinch backwards. 'You're _muggleborn_? He said, looking down his nose at her.

'Yes, and?'

Malfoy was now ignoring Hermione and turned to Harry, 'You'll soon learn that some witches and wizards are better than others, Potter, especially for someone from one of our houses. I can help you there.'

Harry took half a step toward Malfoy, 'I think I can judge for myself about the best among wizards, Malfoy. Your father was, after all a Death-Eater, wasn't he?'

Malfoy looked like he had been slapped.

Harry stepped right close to Malfoy. 'You listen to me Malfoy: I don't care who you are or what house you're from. You ever talk to my friend like that again and there'll be trouble.'

Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward, their faces contorted into trollish grimaces.

Harry stared at Malfoy, he had no fear of the two giants; he'd fought one bigger and probably stronger all his life. 'The same goes for either of your bullies. Do you understand me?'

Malfoy glared at Harry for a moment until the doors re-opened and Professor McGonagall re-entered the corridor.

'Is everything okay in here?' She asked, her voice slightly tense.

Harry turned his back on Malfoy and nodded. 'Perfectly fine, Professor, Draco here was just introducing himself.'

McGonagall's eyes flicked between Harry and Malfoy then to Crabbe, Goyle and Hermione. 'Very well, now, follow me all of you and gather around the stool in front of the top table.'

She turned and walked into the great hall. It was far more impressive than any of the pictures Harry had seen of it and he gaped just like everyone else as they walked along four huge wooden tables that ran almost three-quarters of the length of the hall. At the end was another table, running across the hall at which were sat almost a dozen teachers and the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Candles floated off the ground all over the hall and the great arched ceiling showed the clear, twinkling night sky, the rafters lost behind some great enchantment.

The first years gathered around a small three-legged stool that stood just inside a slightly raised area in front of the teachers. Sat atop the stool was an ancient leather wizard's hat.

Hundreds of eyes watched them in silence.

Harry felt tense but unafraid. The sorting ceremony was just a way of magically assessing a person's attributes in order to best assign them to a certain house where they could live and work alongside like-minded fellows.

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air — several people behind him screamed.

'What the —?' He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: 'Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —'

'My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?'

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

'New students!' said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. 'About to be Sorted, I suppose?'

A few people nodded mutely.

'Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!' said the Friar. 'My old House, you know.'

Dumbledore stood and the ghosts fell silent, each moving to the back of the hall and hovering near one of the long tables filled with candle-lit faces staring in anticipation. 'Let the sorting begin.'

They waited in silence for a few moments.

The hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and it began to

sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be."

Harry smiled and tried to suppress a chuckle behind his hand as the hat continued:

"_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid__!_

_And don't get in a flap__!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap__!"_

The whole hall burst into applause when the hat finished it's song and the individual tables started shouting their house's name until Dumbledore stood again and silence fell once again.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

'When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,' she said. 'Abbott, Hannah!'

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause in which all was silent.

'HUFFLEPUFF!' shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

'Bones, Susan!'

'HUFFLEPUFF!' shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

'Boot, Terry!'

'RAVENCLAW!'

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

'Brocklehurst, Mandy' went to Ravenclaw too, but 'Brown, Lavender' became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

'Bulstrode, Millicent' then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.

'Finch-Fletchley, Justin!'

'HUFFLEPUFF!'

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the House at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. 'Finnigan, Seamus,' the sandy-haired boy who had walked with Ron, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

'Granger, Hermione!'

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

'GRYFFINDOR!' shouted the hat. Ron groaned but was silenced by an angry look from Harry.

Neville Longbottom was next, the boy with the crushed toad. He pushed past Harry, almost making him stumble. He fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville while the chubby boy sat fidgeting on the stool. While the hat was making 'Hmm-ing' sounds, he met Harry's eyes and scowled. Harry knew a look of pure hatred when he saw it. A small shudder ran down his spine as the hat finally shouted,

'SLYTHERIN,' Neville remained still for a moment looking dumbfounded. The entire hall was silent and Harry saw a few of the teachers looking at each other with astonished expressions. Eventually a tall, thin and pale man with long, greasy hair and wearing all black stood and applauded. Slytherin house erupted into applause and Neville pulled the hat off. He walked tentatively over to the Slytherin table where he was slapped on the back and had his hand wrung.

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called. The hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, 'SLYTHERIN!'

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now.

'Moon', 'Nott', 'Parkinson', a pair of twin girls, 'Patil' and 'Patil', then 'Perks, Sally-Anne', and then, at last 'Potter, Harry!'

The hall had grown noisy with chatter as the number waiting to be sorted diminished, but at the mention of his name, every voice fell utterly silent.

As Harry stepped forward, he heard small whispers break out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

'_Potter, _did she say?'

'_The _Harry Potter?'

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

'Hmm,' said a small voice in his ear. 'Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting. Twin storms rage within you, Harry Potter, so where shall I put you?'

Harry gripped the edges of the stool, remembering Salatin's words about not trusting "those who follow the serpent" and thought, _Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. _

'Not Slytherin, eh?' said the small voice. 'Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that. No? Well, if you're sure: better be GRYFFINDOR!'

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked straight-backed toward the Gryffindor table, so happy that he didn't notice that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, 'We got Potter! We got Potter!'

Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water. He looked up and saw Neville Longbottom glaring at him from the Slytherin table, but also that Longbottom's eyes were red and puffy, like he'd been crying.

Harry could recognise an enemy when he saw one.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	13. Part 13

Another bloater of a chapter down and I know that a lot of you won't be happy with Harry being in Gryffindor, but I haven't changed his essential character, just given him a spine and a bit of a temper.

As for Neville being a Slytherin… Don't ask. I don't know myself.

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc, but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects.

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Chapter 15: Cake, Singing and Prejudice.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. Harry looked down the line of teachers, recognising some from recent history books of Hogwarts: A History.

One teacher he didn't recognise, however was a nervous young man wearing a purple turban. His attention was drawn away as there were only four people left to be sorted. 'Thomas, Dean,' a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. 'Turpin, Lisa,' became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now but the hat took less than a second to declare: 'GRYFFINDOR!'

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

'Well done, Ron, excellent,' said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry as 'Zabini, Blaise,' was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago and his stomach growled loudly.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

'Welcome!' he said. 'Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

'Thank you!' He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered.

Harry didn't, but frowned. 'Is he mad?' he asked Percy uncertainly.

'Mad?' said Percy airily. 'He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?'

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Harry

piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

The ghost wearing the ruff floated along the middle of the table licking his lips and staring longingly at the food. 'That does look good,' he said sadly as Harry wielded a knife against a piece of steak.

Harry recognised the ghost from descriptions but couldn't remember his name. 'Can't you?'

'I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years,' said the ghost. 'I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. I'm the resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.'

'I know who you are!' said Ron suddenly, flicking potato from his fork across the table. 'My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!'

Percy slapped at Ron's hand. 'Shut up Ron, don't be so rude!'

Ron shrank back onto his seat, but the damage was done. 'I would _prefer _you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —' the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

'_Nearly _Headless? How can you be _nearly _headless?'

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted. 'Like _this,_' he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck save for a thin scrap of tendon and skin and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, 'So, new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable - he's the Slytherin ghost.'

Harry looked over at the Slytherins and saw a horrible ghost sitting in the table with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy and Longbottom, neither of which seemed happy with the seating arrangements.

Harry's attention was diverted by movement at the head table. The greasy-haired teacher had left his seat and was talking secretively into the ear of the headmaster.

Harry chewed a mouthful of roast potato as the headmaster replied, waving a hand carelessly. Whatever he had said, the greasy man didn't care for it and pointed an accusing finger at the Slytherin table then at the Gryffindors.

'No, Severus.' Harry heard, even at a distance of more than twenty feet. His voice was hard and final.

'Looks interesting, doesn't it?' Hermione said, leaning in toward Harry.

'He doesn't look happy, does he – the greasy one?' Harry replied.

Percy nodded in the direction of the man the headmaster had called Severus. 'That's Severus Snape, head of Slytherin. He's got reason to be angry.'

'How so?' Hermione asked, beating Harry to it.

'Well you know that boy who fell over on his way to the stool?'

'Neville Longbottom?' Dean Thomas asked.

'Yes, well,' Percy leaned in even closer like he was revealing a great secret, 'Longbottom's a pureblood you see and his entire family have always been Gryffindors or Ravenclaws. Always.'

'I hope it's not my fault.' Harry said, chewing his lip.

'Why would it?'

'Harry killed Neville's toad.' Hermione said, matter-of-factly.

Percy, Dean and Ron all raised their eyebrows in surprise.

'I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident!' Harry cried. 'I didn't even get chance to apologise, but he's been staring daggers at me ever since.'

'Blimey Harry, between Longbottom and Malfoy, you'll have all Slytherin house after your blood at this rate.' Ron said, laughing.

'Shut up Ron!' Hermione shouted.

'Malfoy and his cronies are bullies,' Harry said, turning to glare at Ron, 'anyone can see that. I've known and lived with bullies all my life and there's no way I'll stand for it here!'

Ron shrank even further back and edged to the end of the bench that he shared with Harry, Percy and Parvati Patil.

'Well said, Harry!' Shouted George Weasley from a couple of benches down the table where they were sat with the rest of the quidditch team. Angelina and Alicia waved at Harry while Oliver gave him a thumbs-up.

'If Neville has some kind of grudge against me because of a complete accident then there's nothing I can do about it. I'll apologise as soon as I get chance.' He looked up to see Longbottom was still glaring him, a plate of untouched food in front of him.

'He does seem to be taking it rather hard.' Said Parvati.

Harry swallowed a chipolata and stood, flicking his robes off the back of the bench and stepping free. He ignored the stares and protests of those nearest him and strode across the front of the hall. As usual, everyone that saw him fell silent and hundreds of faces followed his progress as he approached Neville who was staring wide-eyed.

'Neville, I'm Harry Potter,' He said to the chubby boy with red-ringed eyes, 'I'm sorry that I didn't apologise while we were on the train for what happened, but I didn't get change between you waking up and that wizard-'

Neville looked horror-struck as a hulking Slytherin prefect stood. 'Get lost Potter. You have no business here.'

Harry looked up at least eighteen inches into the hard faced seventh-year. 'I'm apologising for a mistake, it's none of your business.'

The prefect was about to reply when a hand touched Harry's shoulder. It was Severus Snape. Up close Harry saw that he had black eyes and couldn't make out any colour in his irises. 'Is everything alright over here?' he said in a voice as oily as his hair.

'This first year is bothering Mr Longbottom.' The prefect said in a voice full of glee.

'I am not!' Harry exclaimed, 'I was apologising to Neville for what happened on the train because I haven't had chance till now.'

Snape looked down on Harry, his expression a wild mix of emotions that Harry couldn't disassemble. 'And have you delivered your apology?'

'Yes, but-'

'Then there is no reason for you to still be standing here, is there.' It was in no way a question.

Harry turned to Neville who was staring at him murderously then turned and walked back toward the Gryffindor table. During the exchange the few remaining conversations had died out and Harry felt every eye on him as he walked. He didn't care, he wanted everyone to know that Harry Potter wouldn't shirk responsibility.

He sat down again and forked a piece of steak, chewing deliberately as conversation resumed around the hall. Hermione was staring at him with concern etched into her face.

Nearly Headless Nick reappeared in front of Harry and, holding his head in place, offered him a small bow. 'Well done, sir. A most honourable display, you should be proud. You all should be so brave,' he gestured, speaking loudly enough so that several of the nearest Gryffindors could hear him, 'to behave in such a way.'

'Thanks.' Harry muttered. He felt like people had been staring at him all day.

Conversation resumed over desert and Harry learned more about Hogwarts in an hour than he had learned from all his books. When they were wading through delicious trifle, treacle tart, chocolate gateaux and ice cream and Harry was drowning a piece of cheesecake with double cream, Seamus turned to him.

'So Harry, you're halfblood right?' He asked in his thick Irish accent.

'Yes…' Harry answered tentatively.

'Me too!' Seamus said, beaming, 'me Da's a muggle and me ma' didn't tell him she was a witch till after they were married, must've been quite a shock. What about you?'

Harry laughed, 'My dad was pureblood, head of House Potter after his parents died and my mom was muggleborn.'

'Really?' Hermione said, breaking off from Percy.

'Yeah, why?'

'Well everyone says she was a halfblood.'

'Really?'

'It is the common perception,' Percy said, gesturing with his spoon, 'it's one of the old prejudices: Lily Evans was one of the greatest students of potions and – to a lesser degree – charms that Hogwarts has seen in years. The establishment finds it difficult to accept that a muggleborn could be such a prodigy and so they assume that there must be magical blood somewhere in the family.'

'That's outrageous!' Harry and Hermione declared together.

Percy nodded. 'You see it all the time: you wait and see Hermione. If you turn out to be as great as your knowledge today suggests, then people will be rooting all through your family history trying to sniff out a drop of magical blood.'

'Why?' She asked looking hurt.

'I'm not really sure other than simple ignorance. A lot of wizards – Slytherins especially – think that their pureblood makes them better than others. Complete nonsense of course, I'm pureblood myself but there are plenty of halfbloods and muggleborns in school who are more powerful than me, less skilled perhaps, but still more powerful. The only disadvantage that muggleborns like yourselves,' he said to Dean and Hermione, 'face is that you weren't raised around magic and you have a lot of background to catch up on.'

'I guess it's the same with you, Harry,' Hermione said, 'with you being raised by your aunt and uncle.'

Harry nodded. 'That's why I bought so many books over the last month: I'm surprised my glasses don't need glasses from all the reading I've done.'

That caused some laughs and any tension that had existed was long gone by the time a few of the teachers had left looking slightly worse for wear and the remains of the deserts vanished.

The odd looking teacher with the silly turban – named Professor Quirrel according to Percy – left first, stumbling drunkenly toward the rear doors. Harry felt a sudden stabbing pain in his scar as the off teacher walked out, a pain that was gone after less than a second.

Rubbing his scar, he turned back to the table where Hermione passed him a goblet of hot cherry juice. 'Thanks.' He said smiling.

Dumbledore stood ten minutes later looking lethargic himself and told them that they were forbidden from entering the forest on the edge of the grounds and that, well, Harry was feeling quite drowsy and didn't catch the second message. He perked up when quidditch was mentioned, but lapsed off again during mention of horrible death and a corridor. Most of the first years were looking sleepy following their boat ride and all-you-can-eat extravaganza.

'And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!' cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

'Everyone pick their favorite tune,' said Dumbledore, 'and off we go!'

And the school bellowed:

'Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.'

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

'Ah, music,' he said, wiping his eyes. 'A magic beyond all we do

here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!'

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but he forced himself to keep going if only because Hermione was flagging quickly, and he was walking arm-in-arm with her and Parvati Patil meaning if they stopped, he would. He couldn't remember ever being so full of food. He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries.

After they'd climbed five staircases and walked what felt like miles, Parvati gave up and closed her eyes, content to being led by Harry and Hermione who was herself plodding along flat-footed. Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

'Peeves,' Percy whispered to the first years. 'A poltergeist.' He raised his voice, 'Peeves — show yourself.'

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

'Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?'

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

'Oooooooh!' he said, with an evil cackle. 'Ickle Firsties! What fun!'

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

'Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!' barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking loudly in the corridor. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armour as he passed.

'You want to watch out for Peeves,' said Percy, as they set off again. 'The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are.'

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

'Password?' she said.

'Caput Draconis,' said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs and deep, overstuffed couches. Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory where they were led by a seventh-year girl who was almost falling over herself with tiredness.

'Come on then gents.' Percy said, leading the boys up another staircase. They dropped off the sixth years first as the stairs spiralled up, followed by the seventh after which Percy directed the first years through a door and into a large dormitory holding four four-poster beds hung with deep red velvet curtains. The dormitory had enough space for at least two more beds and their trunks had already been laid out.

Too tired to do anything else, they pulled on their pyjamas and collapsed onto their beds. Harry looked over at Ron who was stroking a large brown rat on his chest.

'Good food, wasn't it?' Asked Dean, speaking with his eyes closed.

Harry nodded and sat up, using the last reserves of his strength to pop open his trunk, retrieve a very stuffy Nidhogg and climb under his sheets.

'You have arrived.' Nidhogg whispered into his ear, but Harry was already asleep.

He slept easily with Nidhogg's tiny weight against his neck.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	14. Part 14

I didn't expect to use as much of JKR's book as I have in the last couple of chapters, but I did say at the start that I was going to remain as compliant with her world as possible. The only things I am changing are the things that Harry has a hand in and unless he'd started hexing people at dinner, there is only the one way any of it could have gone.

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc, but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects. If any of you would like to PM me a review or opinions or just talk about my story, please do so.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 15: The First Day.

Harry awoke the next morning well-rested but sluggish from the previous night's excesses. He put his glasses on and looked for Nidhogg who had disappeared.

A yawn from the opposite side of the dormitory made him look up. 'Morning.' said Ron.

'Morning.' said Seamus who had fallen asleep on his hand, giving him a handprint mark all over the right side of his face.

Dean was nowhere to be seen.

'Morning.' said Harry, gingerly climbing out of bed and turning it over looking for Nidhogg.

'What're you looking for?' asked Ron, rolling out of his bed.

'Nothing.' Nidhogg must have gone looking for a mouse for breakfast.

Harry made his bed and Dean came back into the dorm carrying a small leather toiletry bag and a towel over his shoulder. He looked very fresh and his tightly springy black hair dewy. 'You should see the bathrooms, they're top!' He said, throwing the bag into a drawer by his bed. 'I saw this little house elf earlier, she was dusting and showed me the way. They take care of everything here, we just leave anything we want washed on the floor and they just take it away and put it back, ironed and everything!'

Harry frowned. He'd always done his own washing, and Dudley's and everyone else's when he lived with the Dursleys. He tucked in the corner of his bed sheet and Dean laughed. 'You don't even need to make your bed, they do all that too.'

Ron was beaming, the idea of being so lazy obviously appealing to him.

'Will they wipe our noses too?' Harry asked.

'Probably.' Dean answered. 'It seems a bit weird, doesn't it, these little creatures going round doing everything for us? Imagine how lazy we'll be by seventh year.'

'I guess that's why there are so many fat wizards.' Harry said, looking at Seamus who had the very definite beginnings of his own paunch.

'I don't know how I'm going to cope; I used to play football for the local team and everything.' Dean said, sitting on his bed.

'We'll just have to figure out a way to keep fit.' Harry said, 'Now, show me where the loo is.'

TTTTTTTTTTT

Harry returned from the most fun shower he'd ever had. The bathrooms were plain, but the showers had dozens of nozzles that squirted out different colour soapy water that smelled like whatever you wanted them to. There were piles of fresh, soft towels, flip-flops and fancy glass bottles of shampoo that applied, lathered and rinsed itself. There were three wash kits laid out next to stone wash basins filled with fascinating things: a tiny bar of personalised soap called KleenThee; Earbuds with bits of cloud on the ends instead of cotton wool; hair gel that, when touched with a want turned as hard as concrete; deodorant that changed fragrance with every shake and a toothbrush with a tiny label that read: "Madame Gleam's all-in-one Wonderbrush: brush, toothpaste, mouthwash and flossing all in one stick. Instructions: Run under cold water and brush.

Harry did as instructed and felt like his mouth was being taken apart and each bit scrubbed individually before being put back together like new. He stared at the brush – which was self-drying – in wonder and noticed that there was a little dial on the bottom for selecting mouthwash flavour. It was currently set on "Fresh Mint" but Harry saw that there were also settings for "Sweet Chilli", "Steak and Chips", "Pumpkin Juice" and "LadyKiller Witch Attractant". He laughed and dropped the brush into the bag and, marvelling at how absurdly fresh and clean his mouth was, returned to the dorm.

There was a letter by his bed instructing him to be in the common room by eleven am for orientation and Harry, Ron, Dean and Seamus descended the stairs together. Already in the commonroom, waiting with Percy and the other Gryffindor where they met with Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Fay Dunbar and Hermione Granger who beamed as they entered the room. A few moments later the fifth new Gryffindor girl, Tina-Marie Bowden entered, pulling a brush through her thick black hair. She started upon seeing Harry, his hair gelled vertically straight up and his scar on show.

Percy cleared his throat, 'Right, let's get started, first I'm sorry that there isn't a female prefect here at the moment, but Audrey Etheldreda is unwell at the moment. She sends her greetings and says she will be with you as soon as she is able. It goes without saying that your first days at Hogwarts will be incredibly important for setting the tone of both yourself and of Gryffindor moving forward. Gryffindor has perhaps the most prestigious history out of the four houses of Hogwarrts and I will not let you tarnish our reputation. I am a prefect and as such can –and will- deduct house points from any of you found misbehaving or doing anything to bring our house name into disrepute.'

He carried on for almost an hour, talking about how the responsibilities of a first year, rules and regulations of both Gryffindor house and Hogwarts and the millions of ways in which those rules could be broken. He then conjured a three-dimensional map of Hogwarts which was covered with hundreds of tiny labels and locations which he went through one at a time. Finally, he handed out A4-sized envelopes to each of them which contained a small map, their class timetable, the menus and times for meals and the processes for addressing everything from bullying to unfair marking of homework. Also inside was a small booklet that "I have taken the time to compile myself" giving a brief biography and photo of each teacher in the school. Several of them had notes attached reading "Not a first-year teacher" to teachers of subjects such as Conjuration, Arithmancy, Divination and a handful of NEWT specialists.

Harry looked over his timetable, seeing that, to his surprise there was still time set aside for subjects such as English, Maths, Art and Physical Education. Each subject was given two hours each week.

'They're there so you don't leave school illiterate as barbarians!' Percy shouted when Ron complained at having to learn arithmetic.

They listened as closely as possible for the three hours in which Percy rambled on about duty, honour and the importance of never forgetting a fresh quill and emergency ink bottle until he stood, opened the door to the corridor and smiled. 'Right, time for the tour!'

TTTTTTTTTTT

The first stop of Percy's tour of the school was the great hall for a quick lunch of tuna and mayonnaise or cheese and pickle sandwiches before moving to Professor McGonagall's office, two floors below the commonroom. She wasn't there, given that she was taking the first OWL class with the new sixth year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs.

'Please don't bother Professor McGonagall,' Percy said testily, 'She's a very busy woman and has no time for your worries of not passing your first year charms exams. If you're worried about something you can either speak to myself, Audrey –when she returns- or another teacher. If it's something health or injury related you can speak to Madame Pomphrey, the nurse in the Hospital Wing – which just happens to be our next stop!'

He led them on a tour that Harry was certain was a good five miles of keeping up with the long stride of a lanky fifteen year old. They took in the quidditch pitch: an oval of grass more than a mile long with a fifty-foot high wall and stands with three goal rings either end. Then there was the Care of Magical Creatures area, basically a large modular zoo with different areas for holding and housing a massive range of animals for study. There were vast areas of the castle not in use because, according to Percy, since the last war, more parents had chosen to teach their children magic at home where they could keep an eye on them because You-Know-Who had been a student at Hogwarts in the beginning. Percy derided this as the height of idiocy, but Harry knew another reason for use of less of the castle than a hundred years ago was also to do with how much of the magical population had been wiped out by Voldemort or fled the country, leaving the magician population of Britain lower than it had been since the start of the industrial revolution, a time when magicians had fled the mechanical growth of the then-modern world for pastures greener.

Percy's tour ended back at the great hall for dinner at half-past five. The first years were all footsore and exhausted and all bitterly disappointed that their first day at school had included not a single wave of their wands. They slumped onto the tables and later, their bellies fit to burst they trudged back to the common room and collapsed into the chairs. They chatted for a few hours, mostly about their origins and plans for the future before falling into their beds nervous, excited and slightly fearful about their first day of lesson.s

Nidhogg was back when Harry pulled the covers back, coiled into a tight knot. Harry scooped him up and dropped him into a pocket. 'I'm going for a bath.' He said to Dean, who was pinning up a poster of West Ham football club on the wall next to his bed. Dean nodded wearily.

TTTTTTTTTTT

The baths were as good as the showers, with bubbles that smelled of chocolate, strawberries, cinnamon and pine leaves. The bath chamber was actually a series of troughs dug into the floor of a long, low-ceilinged room in a row and all fed by the same water supply. Harry filled one with cinnamon and strawberry bubbles, stripped and lowered himself into the hot water. Nidhogg emerged from Harry's trousers and settled next to his head.

'Day good?'

Harry thought about it. He'd seen amazing things: a castle far too large to be real, ghosts jousting in the corridors and the Hufflepuff quidditch team practicing, flying almost too fast to see. But had it been a good day?

'It was a bit disappointing, to be honest.'

'How?'

'Well, I expected to actually start learning, you know? After a month of being terrified, of nervous planning and learning everything I can about the world I never knew about, it turns out I know more about it than people who have lived every day of their lives in it.'

'You not compl-compla-complacent.' Nidhogg struggled over the longest word Harry had ever heard him use.

'I guess.'

'Mother say wizards lazy. You are not.'

Harry laughed, 'Absolutely, they use magic for everything, even things that can be done with little or no effort.'

'Wizards forget body strong: magic strong.'

'You mean that the fitter a person is the better their magic?'

Nidhogg nodded.

Harry sat back, sinking up to his ears.

Nidhogg slid silently into the water, bobbing up around Harry's exposed toes and winding his way around. 'I'm glad you are lion.'

Remembering Neville's face and Malfoy's ignorance, Harry had to agree. 'The sorting hat told me that there were twin storms inside me, one lion, one snake.'

Nidhogg didn't stop. 'Inside as outside. Inside you lion are lion and snake. Outside you are lion, I am snake.'

Harry laughed as Nidhogg broke through a pile of red foam. The little snake was insightful and had a way of summarising whatever was on Harry's mind at the time.

'Where did you go today?'

'Esploring.'

'Ex-ex-e-x-ploring.' Harry pronounced the work for him. There were a few words and sounds that didn't come naturally to Nidhogg.

'Exploring. Found tasty mouse.'

'Where did you go?'

'Lots places. Found man with big hat talking to shiny glass.'

'Man with big hat?' Harry asked, sitting up in the water.

'He smelled scared, kept repeating words.' Nidhogg came to rest on the wave generated by Harry sitting up and lay on the side of the pool. 'Shiny glass talking too maybe.'

Harry had no idea what the little snake meant. Shiny glass had to mean a mirror but several of the people in the castle had big hats. Nidhogg's definition of "big" was pretty broad too, as the first time he had seen cat, he had claimed that it was "big-big".

Nidhogg, apparently tired from the day's exertions, coiled up on a large sponge at the side of the bath and closed his eyes.

Harry decided it was a good idea too.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	15. Part 15

Tina-Marie Bowden in the previous chapter is the 'Unnamed Gryffindor girl' that shares the girl's dorm but is never named. I think that's just cruel.

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc. are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc. but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects. If any of you would like to PM me a review or opinions or just talk about my story, please do so.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 16: Practice and Potions.

Harry woke in the middle of the night to find that the water was still hot. He washed, wrapped a towel around his waist and scooped Nidhogg's tiny body up on his way to bed.

Between floors on the spiral staircase, Harry saw a glimmer of moonlight reflected off the distant lake through a window. It was a stunning night and Harry looked out over the land that was now his home. Harry lifted the latch on the window and looked out.

From the corner of his eye, he made out movement as he leaned out of the window. A single figure was running toward the forbidden forest, robes flapping behind him.

Frowning and suppressing a yawn, Harry closed the window and carried on to bed.

TTTTTTTTTTT

'Up, Potter, Thomas, Finnigan, Weasley. Get up!'

Harry's eyes opened and beheld Percy pulling the bedcovers off Ron's bed who was holding onto them with his teeth bared.

'What's going on?' Seamus groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

'It's time to be up, first day of classes!' Percy shouted.

Harry rolled out of bed and Nidhogg slid under the pillows. Outside, the sun was a thin golden line on the horizon. 'What time is it?'

Percy managed to tug the covers away from Ron who curled into a foetal position and clenched his eyes closed. 'About five minutes to six by now.'

'What?' shouted Harry, Dean and Seamus.

'First day of classes!' Percy repeated, 'You need to be up and about: Showered and dressed by seven gives you time to get down to the great hall for a good breakfast. Make sure you sort any post, read the morning edition and check over your class notes for the day before back here to get your equipment for first lesson at nine.'

'Are you mad?' Seamus said. He looked to Harry like he was sizing up his water jug for throwing at Percy's head.

'I am a prefect.' Percy replied, like that answered everything. He threw Ron's sheets down and dragged his brother off the bed, dumping him to the flagstone floor. 'I expect to see you all in the great hall in an hour or you can lose five points for Gryffindor. We will have a good start to this year!'

He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

'You know,' Harry said as he pulled off his pyjama top, 'I think Fred and George might be right about him. He is a git.'

Ron nodded, dragging a sheet around him on the floor.

Harry and Dean picked Ron up and the four walked yawning to the bathrooms.

TTTTTTTTTTT

They arrived in the great hall fifty minutes later, their teeth gleaming and hair like stone. Percy was there, nibbling a piece of toast and talking animatedly with the prefects from Ravenclaw.

'Happy?' Ron shouted across the tables as they all sat.

Harry picked up a piece of toast and smeared it with chocolate spread while Seamus began constructing an elaborate sausage and bacon sandwich and Dean helped himself to a huge bowl of porridge into which he stirred handfuls of raspberries and apple slices.

They ate in silence until Hermione, Tina-Marie and Parvati arrived. They all looked pristine and ready for the day ahead. Hermione was carrying a massive leather bound book.

'How is it that you're all awake and look… like that?' Ron asked through a mouthful of baked beans.

The girls looked from him, then at each other then back to him and stormed off, noses in the air.

'Smooth.' Harry said.

'Yeah, you really know how to talk to the ladies, Weasley.' Seamus said, flicking a boiled egg at Ron.

Seamus made another Sandwich for Harry and he was mopping up the crumbs when Tonks walked in with a few other older Hufflepuffs. She waved from across the room, narrowly avoided tripping over a cat and walked over to him.

'Wotcher Harry?' She said, smiling. 'Good day for it.'

'Hi Tonks. Guys, this is… what's your first name?' He asked.

Tonk's pulled a face that turned her nose into a huge-eyed, tiny mouthed pixy. 'Nymphadora, but you call me that and I'll hang you from the astronomy tower, you understand?' She said to the four first years.

Ron's eyes went wide, Seamus and Dean grinned and Harry nodded. 'Loud and clear. How're you Tonks?'

'I'm alright,' she said, sitting on the table and taking a piece of toast. She levitated a blob of butter and, wrinkling her nose spread it across the toast. 'I've been working on my fine control.'

'Wow.' Seamus said, genuinely impressed.

'That's good. It's our first day of classes today.'

'Right, good times, I miss first year. This NEWT stuff is a nightmare. What've you got first?'

'Magical Theory with McGonagall then Potions with Snape and the Slytherins. Then after lunch it's Transfiguration with McGonagall followed by… Maths. Great.' Dean said immediately.

Tonks sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. 'Ouch, that's quite a first year, kids!'

'Ouch?' Harry asked.

Tonks leaned in closer, 'Just don't ask to leave after your second class. You only have magic theory for the first month and it's a free period after that, just to make sure you're not going to blow anything up or cruciate anyone. Snape only likes Slytherins and no one else enjoys his class unless they're a born alchemist. He's a real dick to most people, for things most teachers would take ten points, he'll give you a detention and take twenty.'

The first years grimaced.

'What's cruciate?' Harry asked.

'Don't worry about it; just do your best and about… twenty-per cent more on top and you might survive your first class with all your points intact. Catch you later!' She said, getting up and walking back over to the other Hufflepuffs. Harry pretended not to notice when she tripped over her own feet.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Percy had warned the first years about the caretaker, Argus Filch who was on a one-man campaign against all students. He kept a scrawny dust-coloured cat with huge red eyes that spied on students and ghosts for Filch who reported people for every minor infringement of ancient and long defunct rules.

They returned to their dormitory and gathered their cauldrons, quills, ink and bunches of dried ingredients for potions. They'd been informed that all they needed for magical theory was their wands, ink and parchment. The girls were waiting in the common room as planned and they made their way down to the McGonagall's office together.

Professor McGonagall opened her door a second before Ron knocked. 'Good morning. I trust you're all well fed?' They all nodded.

'Good, follow me.'

She led them downstairs and out into the central courtyard which was filled with mossy, springy grass and trees that could adjust the breadth of their branches depending on how much shade was needed. The morning sun was warm and a light breeze blew Tina-Marie's hair into a black cloud which she tied into pigtails, blushing.

McGonagall conjured a tartan rug out of thin air and sat on it. The first years sat too.

She withdrew her wand; long, pale and dead –flawlessly –straight, just like her.

'Your wands.' She said, nodding to them all.

When they were each holding their wands, she continued. 'A magician's wand is, or has been for the last several centuries, the standard tool for focusing his or her power. Do any of you know why we use wands?'

Hermione's hand shot up, followed by McGonagall's right eyebrow.

'Yes, Miss Granger?'

'A wand taps into its wielder's core, focusing his power into a single outlet instead of letting it rush out of his or her every pore.'

'Exactly right, Miss Granger.' McGonagall favoured Hermione with a small smile. 'Spellcasting or other magic is possible, but exceedingly difficult without staggering levels of self-control.'

'So a wand isn't necessary?' Seamus asked.

'Yes, it is. Wandless magic is an _incredibly_ advanced technique, far beyond the OWL or even NEWT levels. You will be hard-pressed to find more than a hundred people in all of Britain and the Commonwealth that are capable of it with any degree of proficiency. Yes, Potter?'

'What about when we used magic before we had our wands then, Professor?' Harry asked.

McGonagall smiled. 'That is known as instinctual magic, Potter. Everyone who is magically active can use magic, but without a wand it is almost always wildly chaotic and uncontrollable. It is fine for an untrained magician to do this because it can't hurt them; the amount of power is, just like them, very weak and very unlikely to do any lasting harm. It is the fact that instinctual magic is uncontrolled that make it safe: because you're not trying to do anything specific, your body can cope with the strain and just comes up with something out of the depths of your imagination.

'Now, If you were to do something like…' she waved her wand and created a single rose blossom out of thin air, 'wandless, then instead of the spell being achieved by a small amount of magic travelling through a focus,' she indicated her wand, 'the power of the spell would try to escape through your whole body, requiring many hundreds of times the power to reach your goal. The only way to cast wandless with any degree of safety is to use your mind as a focus, something that is – and please don't take this as an insult or slight against any of your abilities – _far_ beyond any of you for at least the next few years.'

'Can you do wandless magic, Professor?' Ron asked. Harry saw that his wand was a tatty, battered thing with a fine thread of unicorn hair visible at the end.

'I can, when pressed.' McGonagall said. 'It is something that I choose not to do unless _absolutely_ necessary and I have no other choice. I'd rather use a completely foreign wand than no wand at all.'

'Professor?' Harry asked, his brain whirring, 'I read that people used to use other things instead of wands as focusses.'

'_Foci_ is the correct pronunciation, Potter, but you are correct. In ancient times, and very rarely today, people used to use other objects to focus their power. That changed when the connection between wand cores, woods and magicians was discovered and people learned that things that certain materials amplified their users power when bonded correctly. Times change and materials fall in and out of popularity, but the two most popular materials for the last several centuries have been phoenix feather and dragon heartstring. The use of unicorn hair was very rare until recently due to the reluctance of the beasts to communicate with wizardkind. Other types of core sometimes used include veela hair, kneazle wiskers, golden acromantula silk, gorgon tendon, Yeth Hound gut… the list goes on.'

McGonagall waved her wand, conjuring a silver decanter filled with clear water which she poured into ten silver goblets. Giving a goblet to each of them, she took a sip and continued talking about the importance of wand maintenance, spellcasting form, correct and clear pronunciation of incantations for almost an hour until it was almost time for their next class.

'It is unlikely that you will require any major wand work in potions over the next few hours and after lunch you will be with me for transfiguration where I can give you any help you need.' She said, getting to her feet and dismissing the rug and standing. 'You are dismissed.'

TTTTTTTTTTT

Snape's classroom lay deep in the bowels of the castle where breath misted and blazing torches were needed to keep people from shivering despite the last of the summer heat outside.

The Slytherins were already in the classroom when they arrived. Snape was standing next to a huge blackboard and glared at them.

'Find a place to work, set out your things and turn to page six.' He said in his oily voice without looking at them.

Harry and Hermione took an empty bench in the second row and laid out their equipment. The header on page six read: Potions, the Basics - Harry had read the chapter three weeks ago and finished the book three days after that.

He sat and looked around. There were nine Gryffindors including himself and Hermione and eleven Slytherins. Malfoy was at the rearmost table with Goyle while Neville stared ahead from the front table next to the blonde girl Pansy Parkinson.

Snape, apparently engrossed in whatever he was reading, took several minutes to look up at them. He licked his lips with an oddly pale tongue. 'Lavender Brown?'

The girl sat next to Ron bobbed her head, 'Yes Professor.'

Snape continued taking the register until Parvati confirmed her attendance and paused, 'Ah, _yes_ Harry Potter, our new celebrity.' His words practically dripped with disdain.

Several of the Syltherins sniggered and Snape glared at them.

'Yes, Professor.' Harry said as Snape's black eyes bored into his.

'You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. It is the core and origin of the great power that is alchemy.' he said barely above a whisper, 'Those of you looking for great duels, bellowed incantations and wand-waving will be disappointed in this classroom, indeed I don't expect many of you to appreciate the beauty of softly simmering cauldrons or the power of oils and liquids that creep through the veins and arteries, ensnaring the mind and bewitching the senses. I can teach you to brew glory, bottle fame and even put a stopper… in death. If you aren't as grand a selection of morons as I usually teach.'

He paused to walk slowly around the desks, adjusting people's cauldrons or books until he came to rest next to Harry. The torchlight cast flickering shadows off his long nose and obscured his eyes so they looked like twinned black pits.

'Potter. Harry _James_ Potter, what would you get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?' He said Harry's middle name like it tasted foul in his mouth, like milk that has turned.

Hemione's hand shot straight into the air.

Harry thought about it for a moment, reviewing his mental notes from One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. 'I'm not sure by themselves Professor, but if you added the juice of sopophorous beans then you could make the sleeping potion called The Draught of Living Death.'

Snape's lip curled in a sneer. 'Another: Where could you find a bezoar?'

'Is that the stone thing that cures almost all poisons?'

Snape turned in a flurry of black robes and stalked back to the blackboard. Harry couldn't help but smile at the sullen teacher's obvious displeasure. Seamus was grinning at him from the table he shared with Dean.

Waving his wand at the board, a long list of herbs, plants and fungi appeared next to their most common magical properties. 'These are the ingredients you will be using this year; learn them well because I will not give you any information about them again. You should be copying this down.'

They got to work with their quills and parchment. Later, Snape had them follow instructions from their books to make a simple boil curing potion. Harry and Hermione had theirs done in less than twenty minutes and decanted a pale, slightly translucent pink liquid into a vial provided.

Snape criticised everyone except for Malfoy whose work, while efficient and undoubtedly praiseworthy, was no better than Harry and Hermione's effort. Snape praised every positive move Malfoy made, telling the others to watch the blonde-haired boy's precise motion for crushing the snake fangs how the weight of his dried nettle leaves was accurate to five grams. All Harry got for his work was a reluctant nod.

Neville struggled visibly, creating plumes of grey-green smoke that smelled like rotting cabbage and Seamus somehow managed to make his concoction flammable and it exploded, covering his and Dean's faces with soot. Snape deducted three points from Gryffindor for that.

Every question that Harry asked was met with sneering or derision and when he answered a question incorrectly, he was fined a house point and Snape encouraged the others to point and laugh at him. When Crabbe answered a question by shrugging and grunting, Snape nodded and spent the next five minutes explaining the issue.

They left the class and headed toward the great hall for lunch with sunken spirits.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	16. Part 16

I understand a lot of people aren't sure about my approach with Neville being in Slytherin. I understand that there are a lot of points that are complicated with it but Neville was never explored in any real depth in JKR's books and while he may be brave under pressure, points of his upbringing has been pretty traumatic and I think he is far too well adjusted in the origin material considering what has happened to his parents etc. It'd be entirely reasonable for him to hold a serious grudge against both the light and dark arts.

Answering a few questions:

Schnookums: Thank you so much for your review, it means a lot. There will be pairings, most non-canon because they make no sense, but some will probably show their faces. And yes, you can hope.

SerialKeller: I never said that Neville being in Slytherin was solely due to the Trevor incident? No one, read on.

Shadowgal: I'm going to go over the Alicia/Angelina thing in case I have made mistakes, I just don't have time right now.

For the people asking about the Wizard in the hat, unfortunately Nidhogg isn't able to distinguish between details to that degree – most two-legs look the same to him – and Harry doesn't really care.

TTTTTTTTTTT

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc. are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc. but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects. If any of you would like to PM me a review or opinions or just talk about my story, please do so.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 17: A Talking Cat and Pythagoras.

'Do you know why he hates me?' He asked the group as they walked toward the first year transfiguration classroom.

'I wouldn't say he _hates_ you…' said Parvati comfortingly.

'He called him a blasted simpleton!' Seamus shouted.

'I admit it was a bit strong.'

'The only way it could have been stronger was to beat him with a stick!' Ron said with his mouth full of chocolate frog.

They arrived for Transfiguration five minutes early, having followed Harry who seemed to have an instinctive grasp for the layout of the castle. There was a large grey and black tabby cat sitting outside the classroom on a window ledge opposite the classroom door. It had odd square markings over its eyes and sat oddly erect and stiff. They chatted while they waited for Professor McGonagall and the Ravenclaws arrived a few minutes later.

As soon as the clock struck eleven am the cat leapt down from the ledge and walked into classroom – the door opened for it.

Frowning, the twenty students followed the cat inside to find it sitting on the teacher's desk at the front of the classroom. On the blackboard there was a notice in elaborate, beautiful handwriting:

"Make yourselves comfortable; please start reading chapter one of your transfiguration texts."

They did so, dropping their heavy bags onto tables and pulling free their books. Hermione sat immediately and started reading while the others started to explore the room.

'Where d'you reckon McGonagall's got to then?' Seamus asked, prodding what looked like a stuffed hamster that was half-way through a transformation into a large coffee mug.

'Who knows, maybe she's off screaming at someone for smiling too much.' Lavender Brown said venomously, looking at the cat.

'Not loving our head of house?' Dean asked, taking his seat and opening his book.

'No, she's horrible. You get more love and warmth from a glacier than that old-'

She was cut short as the cat sprang forward off the desk and changed mid-flight into none other than Minerva McGonagall, pale, thin lipped and her eyes boring into Lavender.

'You were saying Miss Brown?'

Lavender was white-pale and had fallen back onto a table.

'Let this be your first lesson in Transfiguration and, perhaps the whole school: Nothing is necessarily as it seems, nor does it have to remain so. Take your seats.'

They all did so and Hermione looked up from her reading. The Ravenclaws were writing down every word. McGonagall introduced herself to them and outlined what they would do in her classes for the first year. Transfiguration, until fourth year, dealt mainly with short-term transformations of small animals into inanimate objects and back again. After that they would have a choice of which style to continue learning between augmentation, interspecies transmogrification and conjuration – an entirely separate branch of magic that very few people were allowed to learn at school due to its inherent risks. At the higher levels, students who excelled at both Transfiguration and Potions could apply to study alchemy, but that wasn't until the sixth year at the very earliest.

Harry was pleased to find that McGonagall was much more even-handed than Snape, though it was apparent she felt no inclination to favour students of her own house whatsoever.

She spent the first hour of the ninety minutes going over standards of safety because; 'There are few areas of magic as potentially perilous as learning to change something from one state to another, every few years a student forgets this and pays the price.' Her face was as still and impassive as ever as she spoke and Harry shivered all over.

Their first lesson's magic consisted of trying to transfigure matches into needles. Hermione was rewarded five points for Gryffindor for managing to get it perfectly right before the end of class. Harry's was very close, but he couldn't turn the sulphur tip into a metal point despite the rest being perfect. Seamus managed to set a dozen alight and eventually managed to create a flammable metal with which McGonagall was impressed but anxious, so she took it away from him.

They were set a huge pile of homework consisting of reviewing the day's learning, writing two feet of parchment on "The importance of maintaining clean mice in novice transfigurations" and finally reading the first four chapters of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_, which Harry had, thankfully already done.

They left with minds buzzing about the potential of transfiguration: Seamus wanted to create a sword that could catch fire without hurting the blade – though Hermione insisted that was a charm more than transfiguration – and Harry silently wondered what it would be like to have Nidhogg large enough to ride and maybe, just _maybe_, eat Dudley.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Mathematics was not a subject that Harry associated with magical learning, but it was part of their curriculum, along with English and other languages, physical education and sociology.

It turned out that the classes were still highly relevant to them as they impacted all aspects of their lives. Mathematics was the cornerstone on which the hermetic tradition of magic was built and determined their ability to accurately predict the movements of the stars and thus dates and the times for celestial events.

English was, just like in the muggle world, a universal language made up of fragments of others over the centuries and used almost exclusively in the standard taught at Hogwarts.

Mathematics was taught by a huge, bald headed wizard with a vast blonde beard with a thick welsh accent whose first lesson consisted of a long, exhaustive examination of their abilities with the subject in all areas from arithmetic to simultaneous equations. Harry, Hermione, Tina-Marie and Dean left the class with expressions varying from pleased – Hermione – to accepting – Dean. Ron and Lavender, both of whom who had never attended a muggle school and learned mathematics in that traditional way, both left looking haggard.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

After diner they spent the rest of the evening in the common room talking over the day and about their expectations for the next. By ten o'clock, Hermione had completed her essay for Snape which wasn't due in until the following week and started reading and memorising more of the entries from A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

Dean and Harry had been evicted from the most comfortable seats in the common room by a group of noisy sixth-years who were all fretting and nervous about their year of studying for their OWLS –Ordinary Wizarding Levels. The pair took to an alcove with Ron where they discussed quidditch and how they were going to get onto the team.

'They aren't holding trials this year for anyone but seeker.' Harry said.

'Shame, I'd love to play keeper.' Ron said.

'Not likely, especially when the keeper's also the captain and only in fifth year.' Dean said. I can't wait to learn to fly.'

Harry nodded. It was taking all his willpower to avoid buying a mail-order broom from the back pages of The Daily Prophet.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	17. Interlude

Hi all, Tom here.

Sorry I've not posted anything new in quite a while but I've been incredibly busy with a crazy little thing called life that literally hasn't given me any time or headspace to work on my little beast of a project.

I have a few minutes of freedom now, however and I thought I'd use it to answer a few questions that have been posed by various reviewers.

Iojan said after reading Chapter 2: "Um...Hagrid doesn't sound like Hagrid. At all."

In reply, I really hate the way Hagrid's speech is portrayed in the books. Robbie Coltrane's Hagrid had slightly better speech but I hate the 'Arry' and 'fer's etc, so I think that clearer English suits my story better.

Schnookums: Yours is the kind of review I can get behind because it makes me think about what I'm writing. There will be pairings, but I feel that the first book is a bit early for all but the most obvious ones. Some might be canon, many plainly will not. I love Slytherin Neville too. I don't think that Neville would have become as noble or stupid as he is portrayed in the novels and films. He is from a powerful and ancient family who – he plainly states – have had concerns for his magical power all his life. Does anyone really think that he'd have been allowed to attend Hogwarts without lots of pre-education?

Smirking Menace: Thanks for pointing out the discrepancy with the OWL years, this has also been pointed out by a couple of friends and will be corrected in revisions.

Katenkapotter: Me too. I think it's absurd that the kids aren't educated in how to write those phenomenally long essays they are required to compose.

Serialkeller: Where did I say that Neville has tons of cunning or ambition? For that matter, he does come out of his shell a great deal during Snape tenure as headmaster and he really finds himself. Imagine if you will that you're an emotionally vulnerable eleven year old whose suffering and situation so echoes that of another boy and yet you are ignored while he receives all the fame. You're sidelined and clearly thought very little of by your powerful pure-blood family and their obsession with you being as good as your father has caused them to ignore your suffering all your life. Then imagine that the boy who is so much like yourself, he who is idolised where you are ignored and praised while you're laughed at turns up at school, entirely destroying any opportunity you might have to make a name for yourself away from your overbearing family and then, when you're at your most vulnerable: He kills your pet. Methinks something inside might snap.

Shadowgal ABNU: Loud and clear, it'll be sorted in the mop-up I'm going to do ASAP

Southern-Reader: Of course Hogwarts would have to teach things like maths and English! Are all wizards illiterate or only able to read to a 10-11 year old level? Such an idea is stupid. They'd have to teach the kids the more mundane subjects just so they could get along in the world. Let alone understand the nature of the sciences and how their cauldrons actually make liquids hot or how the runes they later learn have an impact on modern language. I know it wasn't Harry's fault, but since when did truth make a difference to how an eleven year old kid views the world? Are you seriously pissed-off that Harry isn't being an utter arsehole and slinging unforgivables around yet? Get serious, FFS, I'm going for a more realistic telling. A more realistic Harry means darker and I never mentioned anything to do with Harry being a dark wizard. If you don't like my story, I seriously hope the door hits your ass on the way out.

Emerald777: That had never occurred to me... Or had it? *Evil Laugh*

Shadowdude333: I've honestly not started working out the long-term implications for Dumbles relationship with Harry, but I CAN say that I've seen too many Darth Dumbledore stories and they're just bloody boring. Hope you're not too disappointed about his relationship with Neville

HeartsGlow: I could kiss you! You really helped out with my Great Houses bit. I'd been working on that for ages and some detail kinda slipped through the cracks in my psyche. I have also added that Great House Black is effectively inactive without a male heir to the family.

MizzRazz72: He certainly did put the bitch in her place.

Smirking Menace: Thanks for the clarity on James Potter, I always assumed he was a seeker. Couldn't remember otherwise.

Mithrilandtj: I have and will continue to make MANY original locations, historical notes, spells, traditions, (Maybe) gods and spirits and types of magic. Alternative entrances to Diagon Alley will be the least of your worries.

Plums: If you have any knowledge of the books/films, you know that Harry HAS to remain with the Dursley's to remain safe. That's why no one does anything extreme to stop his mistreatment.

MissyBlack31: I hate A/N's, I think that either you need them and your writing isn't strong enough to justify itself, or you don't need them and use them anyway which demonstrates huge ego.

There we go. I think that's a lot of points covered.

Now I would like to ask for your help. I have spent a great deal of time working up a more complete magical history including the different traditions and insights into the wider wizarding world. I need feedback on this from you, my readers. What are your opinions thus far? What do you like, what could you do without, what do you hate, but more importantly, WHY?

TTFN peeps. I'll be cracking on with the story VERY soon. Thanks for your patience.

Tom.


	18. Part 18

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc. are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it. My original characters are to remain exclusively mine and not used unless requested, the same applies to unique spells, principles, traditions, plot lines, books, histories and similar. Ask my permission in a PM and reference me.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc. but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects. If any of you would like to PM me a review or opinions or just talk about my story, please do so.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 18: Defence Against The Dark Arts.

Wednesday meant a free morning of independent study followed by two hours of Defence Against The Dark Arts with Professor Quirrell. It was a class that everyone had been eagerly looking forward to and they went to breakfast eagerly prophesising what they would be learning about. Ron was expecting a mountain troll, Dean a vampire and Harry was sincerely hoping for some kind of duelling lesson.

They ate in the great hall. Parvati's twin sister in Ravenclaw invited them to join her house for breakfast and they sat discussing their lessons so far. The Ravenclaws were to be with them for their lesson with Quirrell and had so far had Charms with Professor Flitwick and the Slytherins and Herbology with Professor Sprout and her Hufflepuffs.

'Charms is amazing!' Said Padma Patil, clapping her hands, 'Professor Flitwick is the best teacher ever, too. Watch this: she said, taking out her wand and pointing it at a piece of toast. 'Wingardium Leviosa!'

The toast wobbled a bit on the plate before one corner lifted up into the air, followed a moment later by the rest. It rose a few inches before clattering back onto Mandy Brocklehurt's plate. She scowled.

Parvati hugged Padma and the girls went wild while Harry demonstrated the match to needle transfiguration that he had perfected to Terry Boot. There was a screeching sound overhead as dozens of owls flew in through the windows in the rafters.

'Post's here!' someone shouted on a nearby table.

'Post?' Harry asked, looking up.

The owls were all carrying either envelopes or small parcels which they dropped unerringly before their recipients.

A small folded piece of paper fell in front of Harry followed by three wrapped parcels, each with a stamp reading: MMRfaO, Diagon Alley.

Harry's eyes widened and he tore into the wrapping paper, revealing first a packet addressed to him and a bundle of separately wrapped items. He opened the letter and read.

Dear Mr Potter,

I hope you are enjoying Hogwarts.

Please find in these bundles your first delivery of clothes as per your request on the 31st July. Unless otherwise instructed I'll send new and replacement items every three months. As soon as the weather starts to turn for the winter I'll send you things like heavier jackets, boots and gloves. If you find chance to visit London at any point this year, please visit my store so I can measure you again.

Please find enclosed my catalogue and an order form. There are also copies of _Immaculate_, the new collection by Hubert Governor of New York, Wand and Field which is a gentleman's outfitting and wizarding accessories firm based in Exeter and finally the latest catalogue from Bantham's, the adventuring and bespoke accessory company who's shop is next door to mine. I get special discounts from all companies, some of which I am able to pass on to you. I can supply you with anything from my catalogue within two weekdays and most of the other companies can deliver within a week. Just bear in mind that things from Bantham's is all custom-made and they will either need you to visit them or send you a measuring kit.

Your account is fully open with me and I'm always open to receiving an owl from you or any of your friends. Anything you need just let me know. If I don't hear from you soon then I look forward to seeing you in the flesh whenever you get time away from Hogwarts.

Yours sincerely,

Madame Melisandé Malkin.

'What's that Harry?' Ron asked, looking at the packets.

'Just a few things I asked for while I was in Diagon Alley, the same place I got my other good clothes from.' Harry said, opening the first packet which consisted of ten pairs of socks.

Ron stared as the next package turned out to be a pair of trousers and a belt complete with the Gryffindor emblem on the buckle.

'They're nice, Harry,' Parvati said, 'from Madame Malkins?'

Harry nodded, 'She set up an account for me because…' he looked around the table and realised he wasn't explaining his situation to teachers or anyone in a position of authority. A curious feeling emerged from his subconscious that he didn't want everyone to know about his life and the enforced poverty in which he had lived. '… well it's important to dress nice, isn't it?'

Ron frowned – he was wearing a pair of ripped jeans, faded orange t-shirt with the remains of a Chudley Cannons logo and a pair of tired old shoes. Padma and Parvati nodded enthusiastically while Hermione agreed but stared at Harry, her gaze scrutinising him.

Uncomfortable, Harry turned to the other boys, 'Guys, could you give me a hand with these?'

Dean and Seamus nodded, 'If I can have that belt,' Seamus said with a cocked eyebrow.

'Sure,' Harry said, tossing it to the cheeky Irishman who put it on straight away.

Ron, Dean and Seamus helped Harry move the bundles to the dorm. He had gotten used to wearing clothes that fit over the last month, but the new items actually fit him correctly. He checked the collar of a line shirt and found no labels. The shirts and trousers all appeared to have been made to fit him. There was a tag attached to the shirt with a small pin.

The shirts and trousers are able to change a little to fit as you grow over the year but everything else is normal and you will outgrow them. MM

Harry dressed in his new clothes and pulled his robes on while Dean admired a vivid purple silk shirt.

'This is beautiful, Harry.' Dean said, turning the shirt in the light, watching the colours shimmer.

'Keep it.' Harry said.

Dean's eyes widened. 'Don't be stupid, this is worth sixty quid at least!'

Harry shrugged, 'I don't mind, purple's not really one of my favourites.'

'You sure?'

The door to the dorm banged as Harry nodded. Ron had left.

'What's up with him d'you reckon?' Seamus asked, admiring his new belt in the mirror on his wardrobe.

Harry shrugged and the three went, as planned to watch the trials for a new Gryffindor seeker out on the quidditch pitch.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Angelina Johnson greeted Harry enthusiastically when she saw the three in the stands.

Dropping down from the heights, she pulled off her leather cap, spilling out thick black hair that was almost as tightly coiled as Deans.

'Wow.' Harry said, staring at the black cloud around her head.

'What?' she said, trying unsuccessfully to pat her hair down.

'Nothing.'

'The hair?'

Harr nodded.

'Shut up,' she blushed, 'I normally use _Felicie's Sleek and Smooth_, to keep it under control but it just makes things worse with this bloody hat.'

Harry tried not to grin. 'How's the search going?'

She groaned, landing next to them on the stands. 'Total nightmare. There are a few good ones, but most just want the glory without the work. Seeker is probably the most mentally-difficult job in quidditch. It's not very physical, but you need to be small, quick and agile as well as being able to concentrate.'

'How many have tried for it so far?' Dean asked.

'Six. We've got two reserve beaters and a reserve keeper out of it, which I'm glad about. But none of them are really seeker material. Look at her over there,' she pointed to an extremely tall, thin girl astride a similarly thin and long broom, 'she's fast, like crazy fast and she'd make a good enough chaser, but she's got no idea about what's going on around her.'

'There's a snitch behind her back!' Dean shouted, laughing.

The girl turned around, noticed the tiny golden ball and gave chase before losing it a few seconds later. Wood shouted that the girl was dismissed and thanked her for applying.

'Quite unforgiving, isn't he?' Asked Harry.

Angelina nodded and was about to reply when Wood, as if on cue, shouted at Angelina to get back on her broom. She tugged her cap back over her huge hair and winked at Harry before jumping off the stand while still climbing onto her broom and took to the sky.

They watched for half an hour while a succession of would-be seekers zoomed around the pitch until Wood told everyone to leave in an explosion of frustration.

Harry, Dean and Seamus left, meeting the other first year Grffindors in the courtyard and going to practice the match-needle configuration. When even Seamus had managed to make a stable metal, they gave up, removed their robes and lay around in the sun eating _Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans_ until Hermione encountered an engine oil-flavoured one and vomited into the lake.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Hermione spent forty minutes brushing her teeth before lunch where Wood was grinding a knife into the table and glaring at the rest of the quidditch team.

They went to Defence Against The Dark Arts where Professor Quirrell flinched as they walked in.

It was in no way what they had expected.

Quirrell was a thin man and his turban absurdly large, perched over his emaciated face. The room was clouded with a heavy layer of incense and there was a heavy smell of garlic in the air.

'Please t-take a seat.' Quirrell said in his nervous, twitchy way. He had several cloves of garlic around his neck.

It took Quirrell almost ten minutes to take the register, after which he outlined the course for the year. Quirrell advocated a long-reach approach favouring spells and techniques would enable them to hide, run and otherwise escape from potential encounters. The best and most basic defence, Quirrell stated, was to avoid danger entirely.

'On that b-b-b-basis-s,' Quirrell said as his withdrew his wand from a sleeve, 'I will t-teach y-you all a-a-a basic spell f-f-fo-fooo-for discovering dark creatures. _Lumos_.'

A point of bright white light appeared at the end of his wand.

'You can find this spell in the early chapters of The Standard Book of Spells along with many sensible applications. Yes Mr Boot?'

Terry Boot had turned in his front-row seat and asked a question that Harry didn't make out. Quirrell was standing between in the middle of the class and Harry winced as pain shot through his scar again.

'You alright mate?' Dean asked, touching Harry's shoulder.

Tense enough from the pain, Harry's mind recoiled from the contact and he threw Dean's hand away with a sneer. 'I'm fine!'

'P-Potter, whatever-r-r is the m-matter?' Quirrell asked, turning back to face them.

The pain abated suddenly, 'Nothing Professor, sorry. Sorry Dean, just had a pain in my head.'

'That'll be too much studying.' Laughed Ron nervously.

'Are you sure you're quite alright P-Potter?' Quirrell asked distractedly.

Harry nodded.

His sharp mood passed as quickly as had the pain in his head and he settled, rubbing his scar while Quirrell resumed his train of thought. The rest of the class concerned practicing the _lumos_ spell and maintaining it while they inspected a mock-bedroom where they were tasked with finding a stuffed gremlin. It was hidden under the bed where Seamus eventually found it after realising he could maintain the spell with his wand clenched in his teeth – an effort that won him two points for Gryffindor.

'Y-yes, many dark creatures hide in the d-d-d-aaa-dark: it is their element,' Quirrell said, holding up the little green creature with over-long arms and legs and an angular, sneering face. 'Creatures such as gremlins, w-w-while rare in non-m-m-mu-muuuu-m-muggle households, are d-dreadful tricksters a-and can cause t-t-t-terrible nightmares.'

The class noted this down and for the remaining twenty minutes of the class learned about gremlins which preferred the dark, emerging from hiding places at night to wreak havoc.

'And next lesson I will b-b-be show-sh-showing you a couple of spells t-t-o make getting rid of a-any Gremlins you might find easier-r-r. F-for n-ne-next l-lesson: half a r-roll of p-parchment on the pre-preferred habitat and b-b-behav-viour of the common g-gremlin.'

The class groaned at this, but gathered their equipment and left the classroom heading for Dinner. Seamus was allowed to keep the cuddly gremlin as a secondary reward. Everyone actually believed it was because Quirrell was afraid of it.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.


	19. Part 19

Edit: Thanks Smirking Menace, sorry about that, completely missed it.

iSaint, it's not every snake; it's Harry's presence that makes the difference. Some snakes are just special and he attracts them.

Right, after a LONG hiatus that I can only apologise for; I am, indeed back.

TTTTTTTTTTT

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc. are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc. but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects. If any of you would like to PM me a review or opinions or just talk about my story, please do so.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 19: Shedding Scales and Pre-Emptive Flying.

The first weeks of Harry's time at Hogwarts flew by in a blur of weird smells, explosions and strangely applicable laws of mathematical theory with the occasional few feet of essays and homework.

Harry had never thought it was possible to hate someone as much as he hated Vernon and Dudley, but that was before he had met Draco Malfoy.

Gryffindor and Slytherin spent several lessons together and the serpents were generally more intent on disrupting the learning of the lions than their own education. Draco was constantly flanked by his mountainous cronies, Crabbe and Goyle and they spent their time picking on everyone smaller than them, irrelevant of which house they were from.

At breakfast on the first day of October which was dull and overcast, they were told that flying lessons would begin the following day and that Gryffindor's first lesson would be with Slytherin and would take place once every week in addition to their lessons of physical education. An audible groan went up from the lions at the fact that their learning would be delayed again by whichever teacher struggling to control the raucous snakes.

'Damn it.' Harry said, spearing a sausage with his fork.

'What's the matter?' Hermione said, looking up from a huge book written in a language Harry had never seen before.

'Flying lessons, with Slytherin.' Ron and Dean muttered together.

No one had been spared the cruel remarks and jibes of the Slytherins, but it seemed that muggleborns were treated worse than most. Hermione, with her huge cloud of fuzzy hair, buckteeth and know-it-all all attitude had received the standard insults and cat-calls, but her undeniable intelligence had shielded her along with her friendship with Harry. He himself had created an immediate reputation for himself thanks to his confrontations with Malfoy, Longbottom and Professor Snape, all on the first day.

But Dean had suffered mercilessly at the hands of every pureblood who decided that muggleborns were somehow innately inferior to themselves. It wasn't just Slytherins, but a few Ravenclaws and older Gryffindors that had their own insults and private pureblood only clubs. He had taken to being quieter and more reserved than Harry knew his nature to be and rarely leaving Harry alone.

'Have you ever ridden a broom before?' Ron asked as he cuffed at tomato sauce on his chin.

Dean shook his head, eyes downcast.

'I've read all about it, but obviously never tried.' Hermione said, slicing a mushroom.

Harry shrugged, 'Probably not.'

'Right.' Ron said, chewing his lip. He stood after a few moments and walked out without another word.

'Weird.' Dean said.

'What's new?' Said Seamus returning from talking to the first year Hufflepuffs.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Ron reappeared during a transfiguration lesson which had them practicing enlarging mice to the size of hedgehogs, a practice that Harry was interested to try on Nidhogg in time.

When McGonagall divided them into pairs to practice the spell, Ron jumped at the opportunity and pulled Harry to one side.

'What is it?' Harry asked testily.

'I've been thinking that with all the trouble the Slytherins give you, the last thing you, Hermione and Dean need is to be laughed at trying to fly.'

'And your point is?'

'Well I went to talk to Fred and George and they've spoke to the rest of the quidditch team and they're prepared to,' Ron dropped his voice conspirationally, 'to give us all a lesson tonight at midnight in secret on the pitch.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. Everything he had seen of Ron Weasley had been so utterly negative to that moment that he found himself reconsidering his entire perception of him. 'Why are you doing this?'

Ron twitched, paused and frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'Why are you suddenly being helpful? You've not had any of the name-calling, the cruelty or anything.'

'I'm always helpful.' Ron looked genuinely hurt.

'Right, well I appreciate the help and I'm sure others will too.' Harry said. 'Now shall we make some fat mice?'

Ron laughed and drew his wand.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

George and Fred Weasley were waiting, as promised, on the quidditch pitch. They were hovering a few feet off the ground as Harry, Ron, Dean, Hermione, Tina-Marie and Parvati all approached wearing thick cloaks. Hermione and Lavender had declined the offer of the unofficial lesson due to it being unofficial and Seamus had taken private lessons from his father for years in preparation for school.

There was a small pile of tired-looking brooms on the edge of the pitch.

'Evening.' Fred or George said.

'Hi guys, thanks for this.' Harry said.

'No problem.' Said the other Fred or George. 'Now a little bird has told us that you're all a bit concerned with getting airborne.'

'You could say that. We've had a lot of trouble from some of the Slytherins.' Said Dean as he inspected one of the brooms.

'Yeah, that's nothing new,' said one of the twins, 'they're all so proud of their pure blood.'

'Even the half-bloods get picked on in that dungeon of theirs.' Said the other.

'Dungeon?' Tina-Marie asked, sheepishly.

'Yeah, their common room and dorm is under the lake.' Fred or George said, like one of Slytherin's best kept secrets was inconsequential.

'Everyone gets bullied, except for the old families.' Said a voice on the outskirts, making everyone jump.

Harry spun around down to one knee, wand out in a heartbeat.

A figure emerged from the darkness. 'Easy, easy.' It was Longbottom, the toadless boy.

'What're you doing here, Slytherin?' Dean asked with poison in his voice.

'I was following you. I don't like my dorm very much.'

Neville's time in Slytherin had clearly been intense. He was thinner now, with the naivety in his eyes eroded along with a lot of his puppy fat. Harry had learned a lot about the Longbottoms since arriving at Hogwarts, including how Neville's parents had been magically tortured somehow by some of Lord Voldemort's followers and left catatonic, their minds broken. He had been raised by his father's mother who was apparently quite domineering.

'What do you want?' Harry asked.

'I can't fly, I've never managed it before and I don't want to appear… weak in front of the others in my house. Just because I'm pureblood doesn't mean that'll protect me. I'm surrounded by former friends of You-Know-Who and they hate me.'

Harry stood and put his wand away. There was something about Longbottom that he understood. Their stories were so close it was alarming.

'Okay.'

TTTTTTTTTTTT

They spent an hour practicing. Harry appeared to be a natural on a broom, whereas Neville took a few tries. Ron, who had been flying for years, helped the twins with the lesson during which everyone became at least stable in the air.

Pavarti struggled at first, improved quickly upon realising that her problem was clenching her eyes tight closed as soon as her feet left the ground. Tina-Marie was a natural and Dean, after a few balance issues, did very well. Neville left alone a few minutes before the others, thanking the twins and nodding to the rest before striding into the darkness toward the castle.

'He's a weird fella, isn't he?' Ron said, wiping sweat from his brow.

Fred or George clapped his little brother on the shoulder. 'Yeah, but imagine your parents had been destroyed by You-Know-Who and you'd been raised by people who hate you. How messed up would you be?'

Harry felt like he was going to be sick. 'Alarming,' He said under his breath. No one seemed to hear him.

'I suppose you've got a point there.' Ron muttered, handing one of the practice brooms to Dean to carry.

Harry walked alone back to the school, a few feet away from the rest of the group, lost in his own thoughts. Fred and George left them early to return the borrowed brooms to storage leaving the first years to themselves.

'Thanks for this, Ron.' Harry said as they followed the instructions given by the twins on how to renter the school without being seen.

'No problem, least I could do.' The redhead smiled as the tips of his ears turned pink.

'Still, you didn't have to help any of us.' Dean said, punching Ron on the shoulder.

They followed the directions up the staircases back to the Gryffindor Common room where they found Fred and George playing a game of exploding snap with their friend Lee Jordan.

'Evenin' all,' the twins said together, 'been out for a little stroll?'

'Come on, Fred,' laughed Ron, 'you've been with us for more than an hour.'

'No,' said Lee with a frown, 'they've been in here with me all night.'

'Yep, that's us: six butterbeers and exploding snap since about… nine o'clock I'd say.' Said the other Fred or George.

Harry, catching on, nodded and pulled Dean and Ron up toward the dormitory. 'Goodnight all!' he shouted as the door closed.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Nidhogg woke Harry the following morning by licking his face with a rough, dry tongue.

'Nidhogg, where've you been?' Harry asked, sitting up and yawning hugely.

'Eating with a big two-legs that doesn't smell like normal two-legs.' The tiny snake said.

'I thought you'd be able to learn people's names by now.' Harry said frustrated.

'You look the same; smell the same, difference hard.'

'Try.'

Nidhogg shook his head. 'Tired now. Full of tiny four-legs, growing fast.'

Harry put his glasses on. He hadn't seen Nidhogg for several days and he was noticeably longer and thicker. His scales were stretched taught across his body and appeared to be cracking in places. 'I think you're growing too fast.' He said, nervously.'

'Magic makes changes. Understand more now, grow fast. Lose skin soon, hurts.'

Harry checked, Nidhogg's growth had been explosive, but it had never occurred to him that it might be causing the little snake pain. He remembered Nidhogg was only around six inches long when they had met during the summer but now, less than two months later, he was closer to nine inches long. He could only imagine how uncomfortable increasing in size by half in such a short space of time must be.

'I'm sorry; it hadn't crossed my mind that you might be in pain. Can I help?'

Nidhogg made the strange head-twitch that Harry interpreted as a shrug. 'Don't know. Not supposed to grow like this.'

Harry's heart felt clenched and hard in his chest. The idea of Nidhogg in pain was terrible to him. 'I'll ask one of the teachers as soon as I get chance. 'I'm going to have a shower now. Do you think that warm water will help? You can go straight to sleep as soon as we're done.'

Nidhogg nodded. Harry deposited him into his pyjama pocket and pulled the drapes open as Seamus entered the dorm.

'G'mornin',' Seamus said, ever the early riser, 'are you ready for the flying lesson t'day Harry?'

'I think so,' Harry said, picking up his toiletry bag.

'Did y'have a good lesson last night?'

Dean's drapes slashed open. 'Don't know what you're talking about Seamus. You must be imagining things.' He said, his fuzzy hair awry in clumps.

'But I thought that the-'

'No, you must be imagining it.' Harry said, winking at Dean and leaving for the bathroom.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

At breakfast, Harry scribbled a note for Silvanus Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, requesting that he speak with him after dinner that day and sent it out with one of the post owls.

Draco Malfoy had been there before any of the Gryffindors, describing in great detail his many broom-based escapades and how flying lessons for him were pointless.

'I'm already signed up for a spot as chaser for the Wimbourne Wasps when I'm old enough. The owner of the team himself is a good friend of my father, you know?' He said, loud enough for the whole hall to hear him.

'Dad says the whole family are half arrogance and half ignorance.' Ron said between mouthfuls of bacon and scrambled egg.

'Sounds about right from what I've seen,' said Hermione, 'he's vile, isn't he?'

Harry nodded. 'Like a more posh version of my aunt and uncle really, sounds like your dad has it right.' He said to Ron.

They quietened to listen as Malfoy started shouting about how backward it was that first years weren't allowed to have their own brooms at school as it prevented 'genuine talent' like his from shining through.

'How ridiculous.' Hermione sneered.

Disgusted, Harry turned to Hermione. 'What're you reading?' She had even more quiet than normal at breakfast, but the book she was engrossed in was much smaller than normal.

She lifted the cover for him to see without looking up. It read _Quidditch Through the Ages_ in wildly elaborate script that was hard for Harry to read.

'Nervous?'

She shrugged, 'There's nothing in life that can't be learned from books and I'm going to prove it.'

'You didn't answer my question.'

She slammed the book shut in the way that only Hermione seemed capable and stormed out of the hall without another word.

'Mental that one, I'm telling you.' Ron said.

'Leave it alone, she's just worried.' Harry said warningly.

'Well I know that, but she _did_ have the offer of a free lesson from some of the best flyers in the whole school.'

Harry looked around the others at the table and nodded.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME


	20. Part 20

Wiley 73: Thanks for the catch on the Holyhead Harpies thing.

TTTTTTTTTTT

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc. are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc. but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects. If any of you would like to PM me a review or opinions or just talk about my story, please do so.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 20: Growing Pains

The Gryffindors all descended out into the courtyard together, finding the Slytherins already on the field, chatting among themselves.

Malfoy turned as the lions approached. 'Ah, the frequent flyers are here!' he shouted to the crowd who laughed sycophantically.

Harry glared at Malfoy who met his gaze and sneered before turning away.

Harry saw the idiotic faces of Crabbe and Goyle and felt his insides clench as anger swelled up inside him.

'They're trouble, those two.' Ron muttered into his ear.

'Crabbe and Goyle?' Dean asked a little too loudly.

'They're nothing to worry about,' Harry said, rolling his shoulders, 'they're just bullies and bullies have no chance here. We all get a fresh start here, all we have to do is stick together.'

'Right, they're just bullies.' Said Hermione sounding less than convinced.

Harry walked forward toward the Slytherins in silence, the rest of the lions falling into unconscious step behind him.

As they approached, Harry saw the way that Neville was standing slightly away from the other Slytherins reading a small scroll.

Longbottom looked up, nodded furtively and back down. It was a tiny recognition, but Harry felt that it meant something.

'Good afternoon, class!' a loud, clear voice rang out across the field. Madame Hooch was striding toward them, a gleaming silvery broom over one shoulder and followed by a heap of smaller brooms floating a few feet off the ground behind her.

'Good afternoon Madam Hooch.' A little over half the class said.

Hooch was wearing tailored quidditch robes, most of her body encased in chevroned leather of black and palest blue. The tailored breastguard was emblazoned with the Exeter Eagles quidditch team badge of a great eagle with a quaffle in its talons. Hooch wasn't a traditional teacher, only working part-time at Hogwarts as she was also a professional quidditch instructor ever since she had retired from professional competition after the Eagles' had won their second consecutive European Cup with her as captain. She was the official Hogwarts first year flying instructor and quidditch coach, enjoying an office overlooking the great pitch on the outskirts of the grounds.

Everyone, even the Slytherins spoke highly of Hooch for her skill in flying instruction and how – quite rarely for one of the teachers – saw no favouritism based on her students houses.

She stopped in the dead-centre of the field and the school brooms fell to the floor in a heap. 'Come on, one broom each, quick!'

The students all moved forward to get their hands on a broom as quickly as possible, the Gryffindors having heard horror stories about the condition of the school brooms from the house quidditch team.

Crabbe and Goyle, with Malfoy between them, pushed and elbowed their way to the front of the small group and started throwing aside any brooms that they didn't deem suitable.

'Don't fight over the brooms, there are plenty to go around!' Hooch shouted over the tumult as people jostled for the best.

Eventually there was a pair of parallel lines of students facing one another with Hooch standing between them. Malfoy stood opposite Harry smirking.

'Put your brooms on the ground next to you as such.' She said indicating her silvered broom which lay under her right hand on the grass.

They dropped their brooms, nudging them into position. Harry looked down at his broom. It was old, the top of the haft thin, rubbed smooth and dark by countless sweaty hands that had gripped it.

It did not inspire confidence, but looked like a acro-broom compared to the pitiful thing that Ron had secured.

'Stick out your right hand over the broom and say "up".' Said Hooch, demonstrating as her broom leapt up into her outstretched hand.

They did as instructed.

Harry's broom shot off the ground so fast that it slapped against his hand, making it sting. A grin spread across his face that grew when he looked around to see that out of the whole group, the only others with brooms in hand were Seamus and Pansy Parkinson. Malfoy shouted again and his broom found his hand. He looked up, a grin splitting his face until his eyes fell on Harry. His smile disappeared immediately.

Ron's broom found his hand while Hermione's had just rolled over impotently. Neville looked around imploringly until Crabbe kicked his broom. The toadless boy barked the command again and the broom wobbled up into his hand. He looked up victorious, wobbled due to the weight in his hand and almost fell over.

Harry looked at Dean who was looking around victorious, his broom in hand. Hermione's hair looked angry, bushing out into a fierce cloud as her broom twitched feebly on the ground.

It took a few minutes for Hermione and Crabbe to get the old sticks into their hands, after which Hooch spent half an hour teaching them all how best to sit and grip the brooms for safe flying.

Malfoy laughed at Seamus telling him that he sat his broom wrong. When Hooch told Malfoy that it was, in fact he himself that had been doing it wrong all these years, the laughter of all the lions and a couple of snakes rang off the stone walls surround the courtyard.

Longbottom performed well, surprising the other snakes as he flew slowly but steadily around the arena and, despite a few wobbles, avoided falling off.

The lesson was bought to a sudden halt when Goyle collided in midair with Hermione, spilling them both to the ground amidst a shower of broken broomsticks. Harry didn't see it happen but heard the distressed shouts followed by both a roar and scream of pain. Goyle had landed on the ground first, his right leg twisted under him when Hermione landed on top of him, breaking her own arm, several of both her and Goyle's ribs and shattering his leg.

Parvati and Ron, along with two Slytherins passed out at the sight of blood and twisted bone sticking from Goyle's flesh as everyone hurried over.

'Move out of the way!' Hooch shouted, her voice magicall amplified as she vaulted off her broom beside the stricken pair.

Her wand in hand, she pointed it to Hermione who was screaming with pain in her arm and whispered '_Morsus reductus, brackium emendo, costae relaxo._' In quick succession.

Hermione's cries softened immediately and she took a deep, gasping breath as Hooch repeated the first and second words, her wand pointed at Goyle and added '_ciste cruor, incandormis_.'

The blood gushing from Goyle's leg suddenly stopped and took on the appearance of jelly at the same time that his eyes closed and a moment later, he emitted deep, rumbling snore.

Hooch stood up, taking Hermione by her uninjured arm. 'Come on dear, let's get you to see Poppy in the hospital wing.' She said. Pointing to rest of the class she indicated Ron and Parvati said, 'Wake that fool up, her too. The incantation is enervate. The first of you to perform it successfully will receive ten points for their house.'

Harry moved forward to take Hermione's arm but she shrugged him off angrily, crying 'Get away from me!'

'Bowden, you help Granger here up to the hospital wing, I've got Goyle.' Hooch said tersely. 'Hop to it girl, her arm's fine now, just sore.'

She pointed her wand at Goyle's unconscious form and twitched it up, causing him to levitate up to waist height, the air between the wand and him shimmering as if connected by an invisible cord.

'Enervaté' Harry heard Neville shout, his wand pointed at Ron who proceeded to cough and sit upright, eyes wide.

'Good Mr Longbottom!' Hooch shouted as she walked away. 'Ten points to Slytherin. Class is dismissed for today, return to your common rooms. Get Miss Patil and Mr Weasley some hot tea when they're up and about, too.'

The air exploded with excited chatter that ranged from suspicious to accusatory to excited.

'Bloody snake did that on purpose.' Seamus said, angry.

'Stupid girl landed on him on purpose.'

'He's gonna pay for that!'

Harry pointed his wand at Parvati who was still slack-faced on the ground. All the incantations that Hooch had used were rolling around his mind, including the last one. 'Enervaté.'

Nothing happened until a moment later when Malfoy laughed, 'You're useless Potter.' He pointed his own wand, a short, dark stick as pointed as his own chin and barked, 'Enervaté!'

Parvati's eyes rolled open and Lavender helped her to stand. Malfoy sneered. 'Of course, if your father had married _properly_ and not gone slumming with your mother, you would know all these simple spells already. ' He said, walking away.

'What?' Harry said as something cold and hard snapped in his mind.

Malfoy stopped and turned on his heel. 'You heard me; your father, from one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain, the last male of his line with a vast potential fortune went and married a _mudblood_.'

There was a collective intake of breath from the students.

The two halves of whatever had broken were chips of ice in Harry's consciousness that spread out, running down his arms and his fists clenched as his blood ran cold. Crabbe stepped up next to Malfoy. 'What're you going to do Potter, attack me like those creatures you've living with all these years?'

The cold gave Harry a piercing clarity. The world seemed to slow slightly and he found himself noticing things, really noticing things that he had been seeing since his first introduction to the wizarding world but was only now piecing them together. He looked into Malfoy's cold blue eyes and saw that actual fighting, with fists not wands, was exactly what he feared most of all, but not because he feared pain. It was his reputation – his pure blood superiority that he treasured most of all. Crabbe was big, but that looked like a family thing: he was big-boned and fat. His main observation of people in the wizarding world was that they were all soft, unfit and so used to doing everything with magic that their bodies were neglected. Even youngsters, strictly not allowed to do magic had at least the basics which was a massive advantage at school. Harry himself however, was lean and wiry, conditioned by years of hard work and chores that required elbow-grease and effort. His reflexes had been honed in the daily trial of avoiding Dudley and his cronies. If it came to it, Crabbe and Goyle would be no problem.

Harry took a step forward, 'No, I don't need to. You want to know why?'

Malfoy's throat contracted in a hard swallow and his head bobbed like a bird.

The fire was burning high in Harry, coursing through him, throwing away all his little insecurities. 'Because you know that I'd embarrass you and your mates, Malfoy. You stay away from my friends and everyone in Gryffindor or else. I don't know what mudblood means, but given that my mother was muggleborn, I can guess. If I ever hear you slating any muggleborns again, you'll have that oh-so-special pure blood all over your face.' He jerked his head forward as it to lash out at Malfoy who fell cried out and fell back against Crabbe who in turn toppled over and they both ended up on the grass.

The cold receeded back into that dark corner of his mind as he turned around, nodding to Dean, Seamus and the other Gryffindors as he walked back toward the school.

By the time his feet reached the steps to the grand staircase that would take him to Gryffindor Tower, his mind and heart had stopped racing and reminded him about what had happened with Hermione and Goyle. The way she had so quickly stopped Hermione's pain and Goyle's bleeding was amazing and she had said that Hermione's arm was fine, hadn't she? Did that mean that one of her spells had been able to repair broken bones?

The implications for the use of magic for healing opened new avenues and ideas in his mind. All the times he had been left bloody and bruised by Dudley, all the mornings he'd woken up aching and sore from a day's hard gardening could be forgotten about.

He had paid enough attention in primary school PE classes to understand that the reason a person was sore after exercise was that their muscles had been damaged and needed time to repair which over time meant that, if done properly, a person would get stronger.

How strong could I be if I don't get lazy like all these fat wizards, who use magic to do everything, but use it to fix my hurting muscles after doing work properly? He thought to himself as his feet turned him toward the hospital wing. He would check on Hermione and ask Madame Pomphrey questions about healing magic all at the same time.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Hermione's broken bones had all been fixed by the time he arrived in the hospital wing, the only area of the whole school that smelled of nothing but extreme cleanness. She had been changed into a white gown with a crimson slash on the chest and was resting, droopy-eyed in a bed.

Goyle seemed to be a different matter entirely.

Madame Pomphrey was accompanied by Professors Flitwick, McGonagall and Madame Hooch, all of whom were lending their spells to healing Goyle who was rocking violently on a bed, sheets stained with fresh blood.

Harry's heart quickened again and he walked further into the huge room, unaware that he sneaking along. McGonagall looked up when he was twenty feet from the bed and he saw that her normally implacable face was even paler than normal and her hair coming free from its taut bun.

'Potter, what're you doing here?' She cried and without waiting for him to reply shouted. 'Get out of here, go to the common room at once!'

A twinge of resentment flared in his heart and died instantly as he turned on his heel and returned as quickly as possible to the common room. He saw Percy Weasley in the corridor on his way between lessons and borrowed a pencil and scrap of parchment from him to jot down the spells Hooch had used as best he could remember them.

He sat down in a couch next to a pale-faced Tina-Marie and exhaled heavily.

She turned to him and raised her eyebrows. 'I know, right?'

Harry nodded and let out a deep breath.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME


	21. Part 21

TTTTTTTTTTT

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc. are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc. but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects. If any of you would like to PM me a review or opinions or just talk about my story, please do so.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 21: The Breaking of the Wand and the Sharpening of the Spear

Hermione was released from the hospital wing the following morning and entered the great hall for breakfast a little paler than normal, but otherwise fine.

She joined a clumpy group of Gryffindors where Harry was eating with Ron, Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Tina-Marie. Sitting awkwardly, she winced as her now repaired elbow touched the table.

'You okay there Hermione?' Seamus asked tentatively.

'I'm fine.' She replied tersely.

Seamus recoiled from the barb in her voice and turned back to Dean with whom he was sharing notes from their previous hour with Professor McGonagall where they'd discussed the basics of magic which was their next class.

'Are you ready for our next snooze-fest with McGonagall?' Ron asked, washing down scrambled egg with a mug of tea.

Harry and Hermione nodded.

'Well I was, but this stupid accident's left me _way_ behind with my reading.' Hermione growled as she poured milk onto some shredded wheat.

'What're you talking about, "way behind"? You've already read every book from the whole year cover to cover!' Harry said, bewildered.

'It doesn't hurt to be prepared, you know!' Hermione said, picking up her bowl and moving to another table.

Ron whistled through his teeth, his eyes moving between everyone else on the table.

Harry scratched his head, his hair was already breaking free of the hair gel. 'That did just happen, right? He asked the table.

He was answered by several confused nods.

'The rest of us have kind of given up talking to her most of the time.' said Tina-Marie. 'She's a nightmare for every rule and regulation. She went ballistic at Faye a few nights ago for burning some incense because,' here she cleared her throat and continued in a passable imitation of Hermione: '"It says quite clearly in the student handbook that there are to be no flammable materials out in the dorms!" Only Parvati really talks to her now, mainly to make sure all her notes are right.'

'She's really like… that, _all_ the time?' Harry asked, nodding in Hermione's direction where he saw she was reading a tiny book while shovelling her breakfast into her mouth.

'Worse, usually. Rumour is she woke up the hospital wing in the night shouting at Goyle to stop snoring because if he didn't then she wouldn't manage her required eight hours sleep.'

'What?' Asked Dean and Seamus together.

'Oh yes, as soon as it's lights-out it's time for sleep. No ifs, no buts with her. She's a nightmare, like I say. She claims that the human brain needs eight solid hours sleep every night to remain at peak efficiency. The rest of us take it in turns to throw things at her drapes throughout the night to try and wake her but she sleeps like a rock.'

The boys at the table fell over laughing.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Thirty minutes later, the lions arrived at the central courtyard where Professor McGonagall was already waiting with Hermione who was seated on a cushion still reading the book.

'Good morning.' McGonagall said, smiling a thin-lipped smile at them all before waving her wand and creating rugs for them all. 'First of all I'm pleased to hear that I've received acceptable reports from my fellow teachers about all of you, with a few notable exceptions, but all told I'm very pleased. You should pat yourselves on the back. Just one, mind.'

It dawned on Harry that she'd just made a joke and almost too late, he released a small chuckle along with a few others.

'Today is an opportunity for you to voice any questions you may have about… well anything really, as long as it's relevant to your education, the school, magic or your own health and wellbeing, pretty much anything that's not covered in your normal lessons. Who's first?'

It took people a few minutes to gather the courage to ask any questions, so Harry stormed ahead. 'Professor, at the flying lesson accident yesterday, I heard Madame Hooch use several spells to help Hermione and Goyle.' He saw Hermione pale from the corner of his eye as he spoke. 'I wrote the ones I could remember down and was wondering if you might explain them? He said, bringing out the scrap of parchment on which he had scrawled the day before.

McGonagall took the page and looked down the list nodding occasionally. When done she looked up at him and actually smiled. 'Well done, Mr Potter, this is quite a list. Madame Hooch has been a professional quidditch player and coach for many years and it's no surprise that she knew these spells, a few are well beyond OWL level and, if I'm not mistaken NEWT too. As you may imagine, I can't really demonstrate spells for repairing broken bones without having some to repair, so you'll have to suffice with theory unless one of you wants to sacrifice a tibia for the sake of learning

A few of the group muttered uncomfortably but there were no takers.

'There is one here that is actually very popular among healers for treating a stitch in the side of anyone undergoing strenuous exercise. The incantation is: _costae relaxo_, repeat.

They spent a while perfecting the pronunciation until McGonagall was satisfied. 'This is a very useful little spell that Madame Hooch no doubt used on you, Hermione to aid your breathing with broken ribs. Its purpose is to relax the ribs and muscles in the chest and abdomen, allowing the target to fully inflate their lungs and get blood flowing quickly. It doesn't require the person to have anything broken or damaged, however and is commonly used by the chronically unfit or infirm to increase the distance they can walk. It is a short-term solution, however to actually being fit and healthy and will eventually result in an overall weakening of the body's ability to heal and breath unaided. No, don't worry Miss Granger, you're at no risk. Allow me to Demonstrate…'

Raising her wand, she pointed it at Parvati and said _costae relaxo_ in her coolest, clearest voice – the one that rang with power.

Parvati immediately took a great, deep breath and stood up, her eyes wide. 'Wow!' She breathed, 'It's like having the opposite of a cold.'

'Quite, Miss Patil.' Said McGonagall dismissing the spell with a flick of her wand.

She spent the next few minutes explaining the requirements of the spell and the mindset needed for its correct casting before letting the group experiment with the spell and in short order, everyone's eyes were widening in surprise and their chests swelling out hugely. All except for Hermione who looked ashen.

Later, McGonagall advised them that _brackium emendo _a spell designed to repair any bones in the arm, but was only suitable for quick repairs. For more severe breaks or damage to the fine function of the hand or elbow, another and much more complicated and draining spell was required.

'Fortunately for you, Miss Granger, your break was a very simple and relatively minor one. Healing spells are another branch from the school of transfiguration and are, as such, my domain. Some Enchanters – a catch all term for people who specialise in charms – claim that their spells are most effective in healing but this is simple nonsense. Every year I take on a small number of students from 5th year and above for a specialist course on healing magic. I highly recommend it for any of you who have the aptitude and those of you harbouring intentions of becoming aurors or working at St. Mungo's Hospital. In fact, one of my students has had six months cut from his auror training due to his ability to heal the most horrible of injuries with nary a scar to tell of them.'

Dean raised a tentative hand.

'Yes, Mr Thomas?'

'Sorry Professor, but what's an auror?'

Ron sniggered and McGonagall shot him such a withering look he actually recoiled on his rug, the tips of his ears flushing red.

'You would be well advised to help your muggleborn friends, Mr Weasley instead of deriding them. You never know when their adaptability might make the difference between your life and death!' McGonagall spat at the redhead. She turned back to Dean, 'Aurors, Mr Thomas, are amongst the most elite magicians in employ of the Ministry of Magic. Their duties vary as much as there are types of fish in the sea, but the role they're most famous – some of them infamous – for is that of law enforcer. Whenever a witch or wizard under the jurisdiction of the Ministry or Commonwealth goes to the Dark and proves too much for conventional magical law bringers, the Auror Office comes into play. They are each master duellists, potion makers, enchanters and transmogrifiers, though all bring their own specialisms to their role and on such a basis are assigned duties.' She paused and looked at them in turn, her piercing green eyes burrowing into theirs. 'If you ever break wizarding law to the point where an auror is sent to hunt you down then it means only one of two fates for you: death or Azkaban.'

A silence had descended over the group, but Faye Dunbar shivered. 'That's where all the Death Eaters are, isn't it Professor?'

McGonagall nodded slowly. 'It is. Azkaban is one of five wizard prisons in our entire world and the only one to have never suffered a breakout on any scale. It houses the most deadly criminals of Britain and the entire Commonwealth as well as France, the German Rhineland and Spain since the destruction of Unguroban during the rise of the Dark Lord Gellert Grindlewald almost fifty years ago. It is where the remainder of You-Know-Who's followers remain imprisoned, most of them for life.'

The hair was erect on the back of Harry's neck. He made to speak but the words caught in his dry throat. Taking a sip of water, he started again. 'You said, professor, "under the jurisdiction of the Ministry." Does that mean there are people in Britain and the Commonwealth that are not under the Ministry's jurisdiction?'

A smile, so thin and faint that Harry wondered if he'd not imagined it flickered on McGonagall's face. 'I did, Mr Potter. It is true that the Ministry of Magic is part of the government of the United Kingdom, but I know that you're well-read for a first year, as if Miss Granger. The UK – as the muggles call it – has formally existed since 1707 when muggle parliament passed an act called the Union with England act which forged the Kingdoms of England and Scotland into a single kingdom officially called Great Britain. There had been earlier attempts at unions which had failed – in no small part – due to the acts of certain separatists in both England and Scotland, muggle and magician alike that wished for no such union to occur. In time, the muggle resistance dwindled to the point that it could be overlooked, the magician side, however grew in strength until they actually threatened the future of both kingdoms.' She paused to take a sip of water before continuing, 'It was eventually agreed upon by leading figures on both sides that the British Isle would be divided between the two and each could rule their nations as they saw fit. The muggles act was completed in 1707, three weeks after more than three quarters of all the magically awakened individuals in Britain, along with more than two million others from around the world just disappeared, poof! Gone.'

Harry remembered reading a reference to this event somewhere back at the Dursley's.

'The Quartering, that's what you're referring to, isn't it Professor?' Parvati asked.

McGonagall nodded, 'That is one name for what happened, Miss Patil. How do you know that name, might I ask?'

'My parents used to talk about it. My mother's family are an ancient house in India, descended from some royal family a long time ago. They used to talk about the Quartering which was when most of the magicians disappeared and the world changed.'

'That is good, Miss Patil,' McGonagall said, 'There are few now alive who really believe the existence of "The Quartering" which is called such because before that time, it is believed that the magically active made up almost a quarter of the population. After those turbulent years however, less than a quarter of that number remained and they, apparently referred to the place their brothers, sisters, sons and daughters went to as The Fifth Quarter. The wizarding world – or to be more correct, since we're talking about other traditions vastly different to our own: awakened – has never been the same since and has actually declined in strength and numbers since while the muggle world has advanced by leaps and bounds. This subject will, of course, be covered in greater detail in your history of magic classes… next year, if I remember correctly, but if you're interested in learning more I suggest you look up a little-known book called _The Breaking of the Wand and the Sharpening of the Spear_ by Meriagrin Gammings. It details – at great length – the changing of the awakened world since the event known to most in Britain as _The Fading_.

'The reason I bring this event up in the first place is to answer your initial question, Mr Potter. You asked who in Britain is beyond the power of the Ministry of Magic. My answer will probably provoke more questions that it will solve, but it is that the people of The Fifth Quarter and the descendants of their number who wanted to leave but for whatever reason could not. They are few and they take no real part in our world these days, but among themselves they call themselves The Unbound, as they consider themselves free of any involvement with our modern world.'

_She's right; it has made more questions than it's answered_. Harry thought as a million possibilities whirled through his mind as the old witch folded her thin, hard hands in her lap.

'In short,' McGonagall continued, 'if any actions you commit provoke the ministry to send aurors after you, you'd better fly to the moon or find The Fifth Quarter, because they're the only place you'll be safe and I assure you that neither of those things are remotely possible.'

She let the gravity of her words sink in and Harry saw the effect they'd had on the group. Dean was looking at his hands, his face thoughtful. Fay's hands were clenched tight as she stared ahead, her eyes shiny with tears that he could tell by her set jaw she wouldn't let fall. He admired her for that. Tina-Marie's head was downcast, but her eyes looking across the whole group while Hermione, pale and still just looked ahead. Seamus looked disinterested, but that was to be expected as all he wanted to do was join his father's family business and "make it magic", but it was Ron's reaction that made Harry take the most note. The redhead was leaning back on his hands, legs crossed and grinning. He looked at Harry then made a nodding gesture toward McGonagall, crossing his eyes and bobbing out his tongue.

Is he saying she's mad? Harry thought, heat welling up inside him in defence of their head of house. He was about to say something to him when a loud crack sounded in the air and Ron's face froze.

'I can make it stay that way for the rest of time if you like, Mr Weasley?' McGonagall said as she placed her wand back by her side.

Ron, his face contorted, shook his head violently and tried to speak past his protruding tongue something that sounded like 'Peesh Perfeffer Ib sowuw.'

McGonagall released the spell and Ron's face fell slack.

'I think, Mr Weasley, that if you have time spare to be pulling stupid faces, that you have time to spend in detention.'

Ron's eyes went wide. 'But Professor I...' He started, but was cut off.

But nothing, If you think that learning about either the importance of the Auror Office or The Fading is somehow unimportant or beneath you, then you will realise how sorely mistaken you are after spending Sunday with Professor Bins taking no less than two feet of notes for me. If the observations you make do not satisfy my expectations then you shall repeat the lesson every Sunday until I am happy.

Ron flushed pink and lowered his head in defeat.

They spent another twenty minutes with McGonagall who explained several other departments of the Ministry which Harry thought sounded interesting such as the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the Wizenagemot and the Department of Mysteries, the latter of which McGonagall claimed spent most of its time "discovering" things that normal witches and wizards had known for centuries.

However, as much as the Ministry interested him, for some reason his attention kept swaying back toward the Auror office and what Parvati had called the Quartering. There was a cold sensation of suspicion that crept into his heart he had an oddly well-formed mental image of a huge domed room with a gleaming bronze fountain in the middle whenever it came to mind.

He was determined to ask McGonagall about both in private after the lesson but it slipped out of his mind like trying to hold onto water when she announced their time was at an end.

Fay came over to him as their rugs and Hermione's cushion disappeared. 'You okay, Harry?' She asked, touching his shoulder.

He flinched as usual and she backed away. 'I'm fine, why?' He said, more defensively that he'd intended.

'You just looked… a bit funny then, like you were going to ask McGonagall something.'

Harry shook his head, at a loss. 'Nope, I'm fine. I do like the sound of being an auror though, like Tonk's wants to.'

Fay nodded vigorously, her large blue eyes shining. 'I'm going to be an auror after school too,' she said with absolute certainty, 'oh, wow, maybe we'd be in the same classes together there too!'

Harry smiled widely, thinking what a waste it would have been if he'd never gotten to know this quiet yet determined girl and spent all his time in the company of someone like Hermione for the next seven years.

'What're you doing next period?' She asked.

'I was going to go and research these healing spells, but like McGongall said, there's not much we can do without things that need healing, so I was going to watch the team practice.'

'The quidditch team?'

Harry nodded. 'A few of them are friends and they let me watch their practices.'

Fay almost quivered with excitement. 'Do you think I could come with you? I love quidditch.'

Harry was taken aback, he was so unused to people wanting to spend time with him, even if it was for a free ticket to watch quidditch, that he didn't respond for a moment.

'Harry?'

'Oh yeah! I mean yes, that'd be great. You never know, one of them might need a nosebleed healing or something.'

Fay laughed and together they turned toward the quidditch pitch leaving Ron sulking and Hermione staring at their backs as they disappeared around the side of the castle.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME


	22. Part 22

Huge chapter alert! - Tom

TTTTTTTTTTT

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc. are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc. but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects. If any of you would like to PM me a review or opinions or just talk about my story, please do so.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 22: Great Serpents and Rock Cakes

Hermione did not like Fay - that much became perfectly obvious to Harry upon his arrival to lunch in the great hall after the quidditch practice.

As soon as they took a seat opposite the other first year lions – from whom Ron was conspicuously absent - Hermione slammed her book shut, stood and left without a word.

'I think you've upset her ladyship, Harry.' Said Seamus, a smirk across his face.

'Why, what have I done?' Harry asked innocently, taking a chicken sandwich from the centre of the table.

'My gods, boys are blind.' Tina-Marie said, looking pointedly at the space Hermione had vacated then back at Harry. 'She's upset because until today, you've belonged to her.'

'What?' Harry exclaimed through bread and lettuce.

'Oh yeah, Harry,' Fay said frowning, 'she's always going on and on about how you and her are best friends and how you met on the train to school and blah blah blah. Anytime any of us in the dorm talk about you she butts in with how she knows all about your aunt and uncle and all these deep conversations you have.'

Harry's stomach lurched and he was suddenly a very long way from hungry.

Tina-Marie picked up from Fay. 'Until now we've never had any reason to doubt that she was your best friend, other than _maybe_ Dean. But now that you've spoken to another girl, her dominance is broken!'

Even Lavender laughed as Seamus, Dean, Fay and Tina-Marie cheered.

'Welcome to the world of girls, my friend.' Dean said mockingly.

'Cheers.' Harry said, horrified.

'There's no going back now. Just so you know, they're all insane.' Seamus whispered before being slapped around the back of the head by Fay.

'Hang on, hang on.' Harry said, holding his hands out and waiting for calm. 'I've spoken to all of you, as well as Tonks, Angelina and loads of other girls, there's even that okay Slytherin girl Daphne Greegrass and she's never gone like this when I've talked to them.'

'Well no, but this is different, isn't it?' Lavender sighed, her nosiness breaking through her determination to not get involved.

'I don't see how.'

'Well of course you don't, you're a _boy_.' She said like his gender itself was a bad thing.

'I must admit, I'm a bit lost myself.' Seamus said, frowning.

Dean nodded his agreement.

Lavender, Fay and Tina-Marie huffed at the same time, giggled together and started speaking together.

From what Harry could gather, it wasn't because he had spoken with Fay, but the fact that he had spent time with her away from everyone else. Apparently it was something to do with the fact that he had chosen to be with Fay instead of her. This, according to the girls was tantamount to him telling the whole school, if not the whole wizarding world that he preferred Fay over Hermione.

'But that's…' Harry started before giving up, lost for words.

'Mental.' Dean finished for him, his mouth slightly open and eyes tight with concentration.

'Thanks.' Harry muttered. 'So you're saying that Hermione's not talking to me because I took Fay with me to the quidditch practice?'

'Almost,' Lavender said in a way that reminded Harry of the motherly herbology teacher, Professor Pomona Sprout, 'It's the fact that you took Fay to the quidditch practice instead of _her_.'

'Hermione hates quidditch!' Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

'That's not the point!' said a pair of identical red faces, appearing next to Dean on the bench.

'Really Harry, you're digging yourself into a pit here, mate.' Said Fred or George.

'Better escape while you can.' Said the other.

'No,' grumbled Tina-Marie, 'we're teaching him something important.

'You might think you are, but fact is that we men are incapable of untangling the unintelligible ball of string that you women-folk call logic.' Said one of the twins, grabbing Harry's plate from in front of him.

The other took hold of Harry under the arms and dragged him off the table. 'We need to steal the boy-who-doesn't understand women for a bit, anyway.' He said, dragging a very relieved Harry up toward the rest of the newly arrived quidditch team.

Harry was deposited next to Wood at the end of the bench. The burly captain had a severe bruise rising on his face and was grimacing uncomfortably. He winced visibly when he nodded a greeting to Harry.

'Alright Harry.' Alicia said, smiling broadly, her hair a cloud of brown fuzz now that it had been freed from her helmet.

'I'm fine, what's wrong with him?' Harry asked.

One of the twins – the one who had taken Harry's plate – laughed. Well you know when I caught him with my beater stick?'

Harry nodded.

'Well it might have broken his nose.'

'And he was going to go straight up to the hospital wing until Kimberly Eisenhorn, you know, the seventh-year, told him he looked really manly all bruised-up.' Said the other twin.

'Next thing we know he's sitting down saying it doesn't hurt at all.' Said Angelina shaking her head. 'Idiot.'

Harry looked at Wood's nose: it was very swollen and upon closer inspection he saw a nasty bend three-quarters of the way up the bridge. 'Ouch.' He said, trying not to laugh.

'Sit down Potter, it's fine.' Wood said through clenched teeth.

'Definitely broken, you say?' Harry asked the twins.

They nodded.

'I know what a nose feels like when I break one,' the plate moving twin said, 'and that was a corker.'

'Good.' Harry said. In a quick motion, he pulled his wand from his robes and twitched it in front of Wood's face, saying '_Episkey_.'

An audible click sounded from Wood's face as his nose straightened.

The keeper and captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team winced again and let out a sigh of relief that bordered on pleasure. 'Oww-ow-ow, ooh!' he said, the last sounding like he was settling into a warm bath.

'Better?' Asked Harry, trying to sound calm despite the way his ego was doing backflips.

'mmm-hmm.' Mumbled wood. 'Much better, thanks Potter.'

'Where did you learn that?' Alicia said with what Harry thought – and hoped – was a note of pleasant surprise in her voice.

'Just something I've been looking at since the accident at the flying lesson yesterday. It was in a little book of helpful spells I bought in Diagon Alley but didn't know how to use until just now.'

'Well it's pretty bloody good Potter, I'll give you that!' Said Wood, his swollen face full of ecstatic relief.

'Yeah, he can show off his bruises with pride now.' Said the Harry-dragging twin, rolling his eyes.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

After charms - where Harry gained Gryffindor ten house points for being the first to manage to make a playing card stand on-end and walk across his desk – and potions - where he lost fifteen for not opening his textbook to the right page quickly enough – the lions settled into the common room to try and cut through some of their growing heap of homework.

By ten pm they surrendered to their heavy eyelids and retreated to bed.

Harry found Nidhogg under his blankets, apparently waiting for him. He couldn't be sure, but from the patches of broken scales he could have sworn that the snake was noticeably longer and thicker than even two nights previous.

'Hi Nidhogg.' Harry said, lifting the snake out of the way so he could collapse onto the mattress.

'Found new food. Good for sssscales.' Nishogg said happily.

Harry was pleased with how much easier communication had become between them since arriving at Hogwarts. 'Really, what is it?'

'Strange plant that great-two-legs grows inside wood-fence. Went there looking for eggssss but found strange plant that smell good. Fixes sssscales.' He said, raising the end of his tail which had been dry and cracked.

Harry saw that the damage was all but repaired and the new scales underneath were thicker and glossier than the ones Nidhogg had lost.

'Well done.' Harry wriggled deeper into bed, pulling up his sheets, the last of the summer was fading quickly and the long, warm days that stretched on forever had faded into lingering cold night where the old stones of the castles seemed to radiate a permanent chill.

Nidhogg slid over Harry's arm and his head emerged onto his pillow. He stared at Harry, his broad wedge-shaped head gleaming black in the diffuse moonlight that filtered through the curtains of the four poster. 'Another great snake here. In castle.'

'Really, where?' Harry, who was starting to drift to sleep, tried to fight through the cotton wool that was clouding his mind.

'Don't know. Deep, dark and very old. Maybe left by great snake two-legs long ago. It sleeps.'

Harry was fading fast, despite his desire to listen. 'You think it's something you could learn from…'

He was asleep before he finished his sentence, the question that had been on his lips left unanswered and forgotten.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Nidhogg was gone when Harry woke the following morning. He was greeted by Seamus' rumbling snores and fat grey clouds outside the windows.

Ron rolled out of his bed and farted loudly which Dean laughed at as he walked back into the dorm.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, 'How do you get up so early?'

Dean shrugged, replacing his toiletry back in his immaculately ordered chest of drawers. Dean was a bit of a clean-freak, obsessed with his space being tidy and everything being "in its place". It was a habit he'd inherited from his mother who was in the army.

'I just do, everyone back home gets up at dawn. Just the way we do it. My mom only sleeps four, maybe five hours a night and I guess I'm just like her.'

Harry pulled on his bathrobe and went to the bathroom, dousing his head in cold water to wake him. He had a vague memory about Nidhogg saying something the previous night but he couldn't recall anything about it.

Returning to the dorm, he found Ron and Dean laughing at Seamus.

'I swear, it keeps me up. It's really annoying.' Seamus said, scratching his messy hair.

'You're losing it mate.' Dean laughed, smoothing wrinkles out of his shirt.

'Have you heard it, Harry?' Ron asked, his face flushed from laughing.

'Heard what?'

'Seamus is hearing noises.'

'I'm not hearing noises.' Seamus shouted, throwing a sock at Ron. 'It's a hissing sound, like… well I don't know what it's like.'

Harry laughed and started dressing, dragging out the silence in the room as the others waited for a reply. 'Losing it.' He eventually said.

'Ah bugger you all!' Seamus said, bouncing out of bed and toward the bathrooms.

They all laughed.

'I never hear anything at night,' Dean said, 'I sleep like a log.'

'Until sunrise.' Harry pointed out.'

Dean nodded.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

At breakfast, a huge black barn owl delivered a tiny scroll of paper to Harry's place along with six new pairs of boxer shorts from Madame Malkin. Unrolling the scroll, Harry found Hagrid's unmistakable scrawl.

Harry, hope you're doing well. Would you like to come for lunch at my house today?

R.H.

'Cool,' Harry said, showing Fay and Dean the message. He'd been hoping to see Hagrid, mainly to ask the giant more questions about his parents. He leaned back in is seat, saw Hagrid and gave him a thumbs up. Hagrid smiled broadly.

'Can I come, Harry?' Asked Tina-Marie as she ladled baked beans onto her plate.

'Sure, you're all welcome I'm sure.' Said Harry, noticing Hermione's interested expression.

'Why would you want to go to see Hagrid?' Lavender asked snootily. 'He's all hairy and smelly.'

'So are you.' Said Fay, flicking Lavender's big, bushy blonde hair.

Lavender made an affronted sound. 'I do not smell!'

Seeing the start of an argument, Harry cut in. 'Look, Hagrid's a friend, the one who told me I was a wizard and I'm going to see him for lunch. If you want to come and will be polite, you can come. Simple.'

That settled the matter, though Lavender was still seething.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

That day was what Ron disparagingly called "muggle day" on account of the morning spent in English followed by PE and Art.

By the time they broke for lunch, Ron was in such a foul mood and exhausted from a small obstacle course in the school grounds that he went for a nap. Fay, Dean and, to the surprise of all, Hermione followed Harry down the hill to Hagrid's.

Hagrid's house was big, round, wooden and thatched as heavily as its resident. The front door was almost ten feet tall and of what looked like oak, black with age that looked like it had been taken from the school. There was a large knocker in brass, high enough that Harry had to stand on tiptoe to use it.

Before the second knock had fell, the door was pulled open, revealing Hagrid's furry face which was bright with excitement. He was wearing a vast pink apron covered with tiny cupcakes.

'Afternoon 'Arry.' He said before noticing the others Harry had bought with him. 'Oh, I see you bought some friends.'

'Yeah, is that okay?'

Hagrid thought about it for a long moment. 'Umm… yeah, that's fine, come on in all of you.'

He stepped back from the front door revealing a huge open space that took up what must have been almost the entire house. Inside it was cosy and warm with a huge fire burning in a stone hearth over which was an iron pot.

'It's not much, but it's home.' Hagrid said sheepishly.

Harry took in the whole place, from the vast bed to the six pheasants hanging by their necks in the rafters and grinned. 'It's great, I love it.' The house had a homely atmosphere unlike any he'd ever felt. It wasn't dirty not Petunia clean nor as grand as the great hall – it was simply a home.

Hagrid beamed again and offered them all chairs and huge mugs filled with strong, sweet tea followed by plates of sandwiches on bread sliced three inches thick. 'There's chicken, cheese and beef.'

They ate in silence, the meat on the sandwiches were still warm and while they were quite plain the group were more than full by the time Hagrid offered round a plate of small round rock cakes. 'Watch your teeth on these. They really live up to their name, but they're bloomin' gorgeous.' He chortled.

Harry tried one. They were incredibly hard, but when he broke a chunk off and chewed, he found it spicy and moist inside. 'Not bad.' He said, wincing as a piece scratched the roof of his mouth. 'You know you don't have to actually use rocks as an ingredient thought, right?'

Hermione chuckled loudly, drawing raised eyebrows from everyone. 'What? It was funny.' she said.

They sipped their tea in silence for a while, enjoying the heat from the fire.

'So how're you finding Hogwarts?' Hagrid asked as he drank from a bucket sized cup.

'Good,' Harry said, slouching in his seat, full to bursting. 'It's weird how lazy everyone is though, almost everyone moans and moans whenever we have to do anything beyond walking to the toilet.'

Dean laughed, 'That's right, man. Almost every non-muggleborn can barely run from the dorm to the common room.'

'Hey!' Complained Fay.

'Present company excluded.' said Harry diplomatically.

'You are right though,' chuckled Hagrid, 'most wizards are right lazy beasts.' He stood then, slipped on a huge mitten and lifted the pot from the fireplace, setting it down gingerly.

'What's in there?'

'What, in there? Nothin' nothin' at all important.'

'You're a terrible liar Hagrid.' Said Fay, a grin spreading over her face.

'Oh, alright then, come see.' He moved the pot closer to them and removed the lid. The inside was packed with sand that was steaming. 'Has to be kept hot for a certain amount of time then left to cool y'see.' He said, digging into the sand with his mitten.

Everyone leaned in close to get a better look and Dean bumped heads with Hermione. A shape became visible in the sand, a long oval around ten inches long. It was smooth as Hagrid dusted the sand away and revealed a mottled green-black surface. He scooped the object out and set it on a small table next to the teapot.

Hermione and Fay's mouths fell open.

'That's… that's a…' they said together, astonished.

'A big egg. So what?' Harry asked.

'That's no ordinary egg, Harry.' Hermione said, her anger at him apparently forgotten. 'That's a dragon egg.'

Harry's eyes went wide and the hairs on his arms and on his neck lifted immediately.

'Where did you get that thing, Hagrid?' Fay asked astonished.

'From this Irish fella I met down the pub. Took it from him in a game of Potkin's Folly. He reckons it's got about a month to go before it hatches.'

'You need to get rid of it!' Fay shouted, getting to her feet. 'Dragons are dangerous, they need to be in reserves and registered and all sorts. You'd get in huge trouble if people found out you had one.'

Hagrid waved a hand carelessly. 'Nah, it's okay, it'll only be a baby after all. I've always wanted a dragon too.'

Fay looked at Harry with concern etched into her face.

Hermione moved closer to look at the egg. 'That's incredible, but Fay's right, you can't keep it Hagrid. Dragons are wild creatures and enormously powerful both magically and physically. It'll be the size of your dog in a couple of months, a horse in less than two years.'

'Really?' Harry asked. He'd been fascinated by the little he'd read on the subject of dragons but hadn't had time to learn more than the absolute basics.

'Yes!' Hermione and Fay said together.

'Now hush you lot. I'll be fine, I've got a couple of weeks still to put my affairs in order and I've already got some dragongrass growing out in the garden to help him through any growth spurts. I've read up a lot on this, so don't you worry.'

In the distance, the signalling the end of lunch rang. Hermione shot to her feet and threw her bag on.

'Come on,' she cried, 'we're going to be late for charms!' The subject of the dragon egg seemed forgotten.

'Hermionie's right, come on you lot, get yourselves off to class.' Hagrid said, gingerly replacing the egg in the hot sand.

Outside, Hermione sprinted back toward the school, leaving Harry, Dean and Fay together.

'He's mad!' Shouted Fay, 'Does he really think he can raise a dragon by himself?'

'He's not mad.' Harry said, 'he's just… a bit, umm, different.'

'A dragon would seriously be the size of a horse in a couple of years?' Asked Dean raising his hand over his head.

'Yes, and that's not counting the length of the thing. A two year old dragon won't be able to get in his house, let alone live there with him. Dragons need to be on reserves, where they can fly and hunt and be free.'

Harry disagreed: that was exactly the attitude that had been taken with him after his parents had been killed. 'Speaking on behalf of creatures that need to be separated from the rest of the world for their own good, I couldn't disagree more. Dragons are smart, aren't they?'

'Some are, apparently they used to be a lot smarter in the past. They used to be much more powerful too, some of the greatest of them ruled huge parts of the world. Not that I've met one, but apparently most of them aren't much smarter than normal animals now, just with more powerful instincts and, of course how magically awesome they are. Their scales and size alone apparently make them virtually immune to most spells.'

Harry and Dean nodded gravely.

'I still don't think that the only place for them is on reservations.' Harry said, grumbling. 'I'm not saying they should have free rein to eat people and rule the world or anything, but if they're intelligent then they can be made to understand that we can live together.'

'I don't know Harry,' Dean said, musing, 'my mom always says that people aren't capable of living in peace, that as a species we're just too greedy and love war too much. How do you think most people would react to having a giant lizard living on the hill nearby?'

'I don't care.' Harry said, remembering the snake from London Zoo and its depressing little sign "Bred in Captivity." He paused. 'I really do understand that dragons are dangerous and everything, but no matter what, I don't think any creatures should be held in captivity of any sort.'

'I agree Harry,' said Fay, 'but that's just not the world we live in.'

'Then the world needs to change.' Harry said, his voice hard and cold like the lump that had risen in his throat.

Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME


	23. Part 23

TTTTTTTTTTT

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc. are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc. but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects. If any of you would like to PM me a review or opinions or just talk about my story, please do so.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 23: The Need to Feed and Hide

The incident with the dragon egg fouled Harry's mood all day until he fell into bed mentally exhausted. Nidhogg was back, coiled next to a hot water bottle that had been placed halfway down the bed.

'Who put this here?' He asked.

Seamus shrugged. 'The house elves I imagine, they really do think of everything. Me Ma's elf died before I was born and dad's none too fond of them, so we never got another one.'

Harry who was too tired to think any more climbed into bed and got under the covers.

'Warm is good.' Nidhogg said, taking his customary place on Harry's chest.

'Mmm..' Harry said, yawning widely.

'You smell like scale food. You see Great-Two-Legs?'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah, Hagrid has a dragon egg he's trying to make hatch.'

Nidhogg suddenly tensed and let out a great loud hiss that broke and turned into a screech which Harry smothered by pulling the covers over the snake's head.

'What the bloody hell was that?' Ron shouted from behind the drapes at the same time that Seamus shouted something that he would have received detention for in class.

Heart pounding, Harry shoved Nidhogg under the covers and pulled his curtains open.

'I don't know. It sounded like it was coming from the hall.'

'No way, it was in here!' Ron shouted.

Dean snored and turned over in his sleep as Seamus jumped out of bed and ran through the door, wand in hand. Nidhogg squirmed against Harry angryily.

'It's probably the old hot water pipes because of the cold weather.' Harry said, trying to act casually as he lay back down and pulled the curtains around the bed.

He waited five minutes until Seamus came back and he heard the sounds of snoring before pulling Nidhogg out.

'What was that about?' He asked in his softest voice possible.

'Egg of great one has much power. I want it.'

'One day you'll stop talking in riddles, Nidhogg.'

'When I'm bigger.'

'Odd that you mention that, actually. I've learned a new spell that might have some promise for the future.'

Nidhogg's eyes flashed bright in the morning light coming through the window. 'Dragon. Yesss…'

Harry's brow furrowed. 'You want to… eat it?'

Nidhogg nodded.

'Why?' genuinely confused.

'Great power to be had for the eating of it.'

'Right, that's not weird at all. How does that work?' Harry put his glasses on and stared at the tiny confusing beast.

'Don't know. It powerful, more than me. I eat it, make me powerful.'

That made an odd kind of sense given a few of the things Harry had been learning about magic. It was very cyclical in that power could be transferred between objects, creatures and people. 'You're serious aren't you? You really want the egg?'

Nidhogg nodded.

_Well I'll never stop someone I love from having whatever they want_. Harry thought, bitterly remembering all the times he'd been refused sweets and new trainers when Dudley had anything his fat heart wanted. 'Then it sounds like we'll be stopping by Hagrid's again pretty soon then.'

Nidhogg's tiny forked tongue flickered out and his eyes shone even brighter. 'It will be breaking soon and it is more powerful before that happens. Be quick to go and take me with you, will need safe place when eated.'

'Eaten.' Harry said as sleep started to overwhelm him again. 'Not eated.'

The decision to do whatever he needed to do for Nidhogg was one of the easiest he'd ever needed to make.

TTTTTTTTTTT

He rose the next day tense and anxious to the point that he missed McGonagall's instructions for transfiguring a guinea pig into a horned toad and lost five house points when the rodent exploded across his desk.

He spent the second class of the day exploring in search of a suitable place to hide Nidhogg and the egg. Finding nowhere suitable, he skipped lunch and went to the library to look for any reference to snakes and transferral of power until Tina-Marie and Fay arrived, looking concerned.

'Harry, what's going on with you today?' Tina-Marie asked.

'Nothing, just… tired.' Harry lied, throwing a heavy book back on to one of the levitating trays that returned the tomes to their places.

'You're a terrible liar, Harry Potter.' Fay said, smiling. 'Do you know why Seamus was going on about dragons living in the walls this morning?'

Harry's insides clenched. 'He's just being stupid, hearing things in his sleep. Last night I think there was a hiss of steam or something from the bathrooms and he went a bit crazy.'

Tina-Marie laughed, 'He was born crazy, I think.'

'It's an old castle, it makes weird noises all the time. Just the other day a ghost wandered through our dorm at two in the morning ringing a bell and shouting "Bring out your dead", scared us all half to death.'

Harry laughed, relaxing a little. 'I was just looking for a bit of peace and quiet, you know? Somewhere without hordes of ghosts and students looking to hide from detention.'

Fay nodded. 'Where have you tried?'

'Pretty much everywhere, really.'

'Well have you been to the third floor?' Tina-Marie asked.

'No,' Harry said, 'there was the notice that it's out of bounds.'

'Yeah, that's just because there aren't enough kids here this year to justify there being every room in this massive place inhabited.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well ours is likely to be the smallest year in the history of Hogwarts, or so Percy was saying the other day. Tina-Marie said, 'We were all born when the war against You-Know-Who was at its worst and apparently people weren't having many kids that year. Percy's year is huge: he says there are twenty Gryffindors, sixteen Ravenclaws, twenty-seven Slytherins and thirty Hufflepuffs. He says that it took them hours to sort them all on his first day. Take that with the fact that there's a new school in Cornwall just opened and it makes sense that they're just not using parts of this old place. Apparently Percy's oldest brother Bill's year was massive: more than a hundred and fifty students.'

Harry nodded, amazed by how much the quiet and unassuming girl with the dark brown hair and mahogany brown eyes had learned that he was completely ignorant of. 'I guess it's worth a look.' He said, thinking.

'It is, it's brilliant up there!' Fay said, jumping on the spot. 'We went up there with Fred and George, you know, Ron's brothers? They're using the first classroom up there as a club house with a few friends. We can go up there and relax whenever they're not using it. Want to see?'

Harry nodded again and jumped to his feet. 'Yeah, sure!'

They left the library and headed toward the grand staircase as if going back to their common room, but halted halfway up on a landing.

'You have to wait here for that staircase to move.' Tina-Marie said, pointing to one of the wandering steps.

It took almost five minutes, but when the stairs moved it connected them to another set leading to a heavy oaken door bearing an "entrance forbidden" sign. With a furtive glance around, Fay pushed through the door and pulled Harry in after. Tina-Marie closed the door behind them and the world fell into complete darkness.

'_Lumos_.' Fay said immediately, a pinpoint of gleaming silvery light appearing at the end of her wand.

As the light grew, it revealed a long hallway that looked just like most of those on the second and fourth floors, except that every inch was covered with thick layers of dust and hung with cobwebs. Footsteps in the dust led from where they stood to a classroom less than ten feet away on the right.

'Quite a find, huh?' Tina-Maire said excitedly, her voice magnified and echoing back on them by the empty space.

'Amazing.'

Tina-Marie lit her own wand then walked over to the door, tapped it and said '_alohamora_.' The lock clicked and swung open with a creak.

'What was that?' Harry asked, lighting his own wand.

'A-loh-ha-mor-a,' Tina-Marie said, 'the twins taught it us when we followed them here. It opens all non-magic locks and can, if you're strong enough even get through some of those. They have it so well practiced they reckon the only things they can't open are ones locked by Flitwick and Dumbledore himself.'

'Cool, I'll have to try that.'

'You should,' Fay said, 'it's really useful. We've taken to unlocking Hermione's cases and trunk when she's asleep and blaming it on the house elves. She's not happy.'

'You shouldn't be mean to Hermione, I know she's high strung and a pain in the arse, but she does mean well.'

The girls didn't reply as they walked into the classroom. Inside was bright, well lit and festooned with deep couches and beanbags. On the chimney breast there was a larger-than-life-size poster of Professor Snape speared with dozens of darts, arrows and one actual spear which projected from his right eye.

'Nice place, huh?' Fay said, falling into a beanbag.

Harry nodded and explored the room. There were games, snacks, books and spell materials everywhere. He saw a tall pile of barely legible old parchments, the ink faded until it was barely legible.

'What's this?' He asked, lifting one page so old that it looked as if it might fall apart at any moment.

'They're old notes on spells that Lukas Barthorne and Sabrina Cowell, the sixth-year Ravenclaws lifted from the library. They were due to be sent to the vaults where they'd be lost forever. They're not in English and they're so faded that no one can read them, so a few people are putting in a few hours to see if they're worth bothering with.' Tina-Marie said after taking the crumbling parchment from him. 'So don't touch.'

The girls fell into deep couches and Harry kept exploring, realising that there was far too much stuff in the room than could have been gathered in the eight weeks they'd been at school.

'What else is on this floor?' He asked, investigating a pile of crystal goblets emblazoned with the snake of Slytherin house.

'No idea, we only came up here for the first time last week, I don't know if the others have been exploring more.' Fay said, taking out quill and parchment.

She had a book in her hand and Harry had to crane his neck to read the title _Basic Charms: A Quick-Fire Guide_.

'What's that?' He asked.

'Just a little thing that George gave me, it helps out with the homework essays. It's from America where they don't start wizarding school until fifteen. Most of them learn the basic of magic at home until then.'

'How stupid.'

'That's what I was thinking. What's the point of not learning magic properly until you're almost grown up?'

Harry shrugged and remembered the point of him coming with the girls in the first place.

'Tell you what,' he said, 'I'm going to have a quick look round outside.'

'No worries, don't go far, we've got class in twenty.' Tina-Marie said as he was already heading out of the door.

Harry lit his wand as the door clicked shut behind him and shone the ball of light down the hallway. The statues and gaps where suits of armour should have stood cast eerie shadows all around him. After taking no more than a dozen steps, he noticed tracks in the dust picked out by the light of his wand, so light and fine that normally they'd be invisible. He reached down and touched one, a clear boot print. Moving his light back and forth he saw that it didn't look right. Looking up, toward the other prints, he saw that the print at his feet disappeared.

_It's been hidden with magic_. He thought as the situation dawned on him. _What're they hiding up here?_

Standing, he walked on down the corridor, his shoes leaving black prints next to the barely visible ones. He followed the ghostly prints, listening hard for any sound.

The corridor was utterly black except for the light from his wand, but it mirrored the layout on the floors above and below. He rounded a corner and the footprints abruptly stopped.

Pausing, he backtracked and found that the prints moved to a door and beyond. The door was tall and old, black with age like most of the doors at Hogwarts. He tried the handle but it wouldn't budge. There was no keyhole.

He tried to force the door, dropping his wand into his back pocket and bearing his weight down on the handle. It didn't even budge. Retrieving his wand he tapped the handle and said, as softly as he could, 'alohamora.'

The handle wiggled a little and clicked. This time it moved easily, the mechanism sliding open. As he pulled the door he became aware of booming air, like a great bellows blowing out and sucking in time. He pulled the door open and directed his light inside.

What it revealed made his breath catch in his throat.

A dog, easily twice the height of even Hagrid and covered in sleek black fur stood illuminated in the wandlight. It was proportionately much thicker in the shoulders than a normal dog and the size was needed to support three massive heads, each with bright yellow eyes and slaver dripping from teeth the length of Harry's forearm.

Harry realised he was holding his breath and filled his lungs at the same moment that the great eyes, bigger than basketballs turned and stared at him. It was in a huge room half the size of the great hall, with a vast pile of pelts and cloth in one corner and a ten-foot wide bowl in another. It took a step toward Harry, its teeth bared in a snarl so deep he could feel it vibrate in his chest. Vast cords of muscle shifted under its skin as it moved and Harry noticed it sidestepped a small hatch mounted into the floor of the room.

The middle head sniffed at the air then reared back and barked.

The sound was so huge and amplified by the room that Harry fell back clutching his ears. His wand clattered to the floor and its light vanished as another head barked and he was plunged into darkness. He scrambled to his feet, instinctively dodging to one side to avoid a potential lunge and searched for his wand.

Phantom lights danced over his vision as the massive booming of the dog's heads continued. An explosion of sound, the breaking of stone and wood rocked the air around him and he fell backward as dust and grit fell on him, tinkling against his glasses as he landed hard on his backside.

The lights in his mind grew brighter, illuminating the wall that was giving way under the weight of the beast. He imagined its jaws biting, breaking and ripping. He saw it snap the great door in two and pull the rest down with a great, heavy paw.

But the light continued to grow, brighter behind him as his hands found purchase on the ground and he started to rise.

There was a scream behind him and he was lifted back to his feet by thin but strong arms. Turning around he saw Fay, her face pale and fear contorting her mouth. 'Let's get out of here!' she cried, pulling him with her. When he hesitated, she tried to drag him but he paused long enough to grab his wand from the ground, by which time the dog had one whole head through a hole in the wall.

Together they ran terrified, their wandlights bobbing in the darkness. Harry saw monstrous shapes rising out from behind statues and under archways, but forced himself to carry on.

They bolted back inside the classroom and fell through the door, Fay landing hard on top of Harry and driving the wind out of him.

Tina-Marie screamed. 'What happened?' she asked as she pulled Fay off Harry.

'There was a… a dog, some kind of monster.'

Harry rolled over and sucked in a deep breath. 'Something massive, three heads. Guarding a door in the floor.' He coughed and dry-heaved, glad his stomach was empty.

Fay moved over to the door, opened it a crack and listened. 'Nothing, I think it's given up.' She said after a moment.

'What is something like that doing in the school?' Harry asked, getting to his feet.

'It was a cerberus,' Fay said, 'I don't even know _how_ it's here, let alone why.'

'We should tell the teachers.' Said Tina-Marie, her face full of fear.

'Don't be stupid!' Harry snapped, rounding on her. 'We go telling the teachers that we've been wandering around a place that's forbidden and we'll be in massive trouble. We'd probably even get expelled.' The cold anger flared in him again and his wand twitched in his hand like it was restrained from some long-practiced action.

'O-okay.' She said, looking down.

'Don't be like that Harry, she's just scared.' Fay pushed past him and hugged Tina-Marie who looked to be on the edge of tears.

'Fine.' Harry growled, 'But we mention this to no one, okay?'

Both of the girls nodded.

'Then let's get out of here.' Harry turned and pulled the door open, heading back to the stairs. His wandlight revealed that he was white with dust from the floors and falling bricks. I'll have to change without being seen. He thought, as they emerged onto the staircase to find the one they wanted already in position. The three bolted up to Gryffindor tower, past the portrait of the Fat Lady and-

- straight into Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME


	24. Part 24

TTTTTTTTTTT

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc. are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc. but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects. If any of you would like to PM me a review or opinions or just talk about my story, please do so.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 24: Inheritance and Questions Unasked and Unanswered

The headmaster's office was vast. Albus Dumbledore sat behind a fifteen-foot wide desk in a high backed chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. He regarded Harry who perched on an uncomfortable chair, unable to bear the gaze of those cool blue and oddly twinkling eyes for more than a few moments at a time. The air in the room was exactly warm enough to not be called cold, but cool enough that the pine-scented breeze from the tall windows bought his arms out in goose bumps.

They had been seated for more than ten minutes without a word being uttered. Fay and Tina-Marie had been dismissed back to their classes after a few choice words and the handing out of detentions, but Harry had been marched down several corridors, upstairs and was made thoroughly disoriented by the twisting and turning before they came to a stop at a large statue of a gryphon. The gryphon had leapt aside as Dumbledore approached and they'd ascended an animated spiral staircase that carried them into the office where they now sat.

Harry was used to silence and waiting under the stress of fear, but now his mouth was dry and he fidgeted in the uncomfortable chair. The tension of waiting while the ancient wizard with the eyes that seemed to pierce his soul was unbearable.

A moment before his will broke, the old man stirred. 'Your father,' he said in a soft voice that seemed to slide over the hundreds of weird and wonderful instruments and ornaments in the office, 'had a certain fondness for disregarding rules, especially rules that were in place for the safety of the whole school.'

The mention of his father made Harry tense further and threatened to pitch him off his seat.

'I know that you were informed that the third floor was out of bounds to all students at the start of the term and I am not surprised you have found your way there. I am surprised, however, that you have managed to make so much mess from a simple misadventure. There is little that happens in this school that goes beneath my notice and the contents of the room guarded by Fluffy is...'

'Fluffy?' Harry broke in, 'That _thing_ has a name?'

'Fluffy is of paramount importance to a major issue of security. I will not tell you more, except to impress upon you the importance of not going near that door again. It has been repaired and new spells and wards put in place to guard it. By telling you these things I am trusting you a great deal more than most other people, Harry, more even than a few members of the staff. Do you know why?'

Harry tried to respond but he was so torn between anger and embarrassment at being forced to sit and be scrutinised by this old man, the fact that he would be talk of the school, the burning fury of being almost eaten by a guard dog and cold resentment of the fact that Fluffy had been there in the first place. All he managed was a non-committal shrug.

'I am trusting you because you are your parents' son. You are the very image of James Potter from his hair to his build and you have your mother's eyes. I taught them as students and after they completed their educations grew to know and value them as good friends. During the war against Lord Voldemort, they were among the greatest supporters of the light and truth. Their death was a terrible blow and loss to the magical world. It is because of who you are that I am choosing to trust you, Harry. You haven't had an easy life and you know the value of protection. I cannot tell you what it is that we are protecting, only that it is of vital importance that the thing we are protecting remains not only safe, but a secret. It is to that end that I want you to have this.' Dumbledore took out a parcel from a drawer in his desk and, holding it in both hands, walked around to Harry.

'It belonged to your father and it was in my possession when he passed away. I have kept it for you all these years. I was considering keeping it until Christmas for you, but as you're here…'

Harry pulled open the wrapping paper and revealed a shimmering section of cloth which was folded many times. He stood and shook it out revealing a long and flowing cloak of a material he had never seen before. It was almost weightless and as smooth as silk, but it felt extremely strong in his hands. It didn't have a single colour, but seemed to shift between shades of green, blue, grey, brown and yellow. It was fascinating. 'What is it?' he asked.

'It is your fathers cloak, I understand it belonged to his father before him.' Dumbledore said, returning to his seat. 'Try it on.'

It was an adults cloak which would have wrapped around Harry's slender frame at least three times and would have had several feet dragging on the floor. 'Sir?'

The headmaster stared at him, his expression unreadable.

A shudder of cool anger at that impassive face trickled up his spine, but Harry slung the great cloak over his shoulders and bought it together at his throat. It was enormous on him, he couldn't even…

His breath caught in his throat as a small smile spread across Dumbledore's lips. His body from throat to feet was gone. Disappeared. 'What… I… What is this?'

'It is your father's invisibility cloak. It is quite rare and very, very valuable, Harry. I expect you to take good care of it and respect its powers.'

Harry pushed the cloak off his shoulders and his body reappeared.

'When you wear it like that you are, of course fully visible. The enchantment on the cloak is only active if it covers you, but raising the hood will make you completely invisible to all except the most… practiced of eyes.'

Harry, excited as he was, managed to record that little titbit in some deep part of his mind, 'Thank you, sir.' He said, taking the cloak off and folding it as neatly as possible.

'You're most welcome, Harry.' Dumbledore said, standing. 'You will, of course be required to perform detention for your breaking of the rules, but as you now understand the importance of said rule, I doubt that your suffering will be taste as bitter. I hope I need not tell you that you may not return to the third floor?'

Harry didn't respond, not trusting his tongue, but nodded instead.

That seemed enough for Dumbledore who leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers again. 'You may go now, Harry.' As he spoke, Professor McGonagall walked in through the door, her face like stone.

'Come on, Potter.' She said. 'Is everything okay headmaster?'

'Everything is just fine, Professor McGonagall, you may take Mr Potter back to his class now, if you don't mind.'

TTTTTTTTTTT

Harry's detention turned out to be neither demeaning or depressing, in fact he found that he would be assisting Madame Hooch while she serviced all of the school brooms.

'I understand that you've taken to flying as your father did, Potter.' McGonagall said as they arrived outside Professor Quirrell's Defence Against the Dark Arts class. 'You should count yourself very lucky.'

'I do, thanks professor.' Harry said, eager to get into the classroom and away from the head of house's iron gaze.

Inside the classroom, he apologised for his lateness and took his seat next to Dean. Quirrell started to reply but gave up after five seconds of failing to complete his first word.

The class was covering a useful spell for escaping from being tied-up or bound. 'It-t-t-t-t's the first s-s-spell y-you will learn-n that is a-as easy wi-with-without a wand as with.' Quirrell was explaining as Harry took out his copy of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ and opening it to the proper chapter.

His mind whirled through the remainder of the class with all that he had learned and had been implied by Dumbledore. Upon reflection, he had so many questions to ask about his parents that he felt he might burst with them. Cursing himself for not asking when he had chance, he tried to concentrate on his work, but then his attention wandered to the cloak that was overfilling his book bag.

_My dad's cloak and his before him._

Harry reached down with his foot and touched the top of his bag where the incredible garment lay. It was the only thing he had that had ever belonged to either of his parents.

An elbow dug into his ribs, pulling his attention back to the classroom. He looked up and saw Quirrell staring at him.

'Well, P-Potter?' he asked, leaning forward.

'Sorry, Professor, what was the question?' Harry asked, oblivious.

Quirrell's face flushed and his face grew taut. 'I asked if you thought you'd be able to break free of an impediment jinx.' He said angrily, his eyes hard and not at all Quirrell-like.

Harry's brow furrowed. Quirrell's face had returned to its normal soft, nervous and twitchy state almost immediately, but for an instant he had been very different. 'I… I don't know, sir. I'm sorry.'

Quirrell sniffed and looked down on Harry haughtily before turning on his heel and walking away. As his back turned, a stabbing pain shot into Harry's scar, rocking him back in his chair.

'You alright, Harry?' Dean asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

The pain intensified for an instant then vanished entirely, leaving Harry feeling like a bottle of pop that had been shaken. He was hot and cold all at the same time and his head swam.

'What is it now, Potter?' Quirrell shouted across the class. 'Not content-t-t w-w-with your own i-ignorance, you'ven-now decided to-to-to inf-flict it o-on the rest of u-u-u-us, am I right.' It was not a question. 'Ten points from Gryffindor.'

There were groans from the lions in the class and the fire in Harry surged as he felt his cheeks redden. He did his best to concentrate through the rest of the lesson and was the first to leave at the end, bolting out of the class with his bag under his arm.

Back in the dorm and alone, Harry inspected the cloak. It was perfect, a single piece of cloth without seams, hems or even a clasp – it just held itself closed when the corners were put together. It had to be more than thirty years old if it had belonged to his grandfather who, according to the brief reading he had done about the Potter family had died when James Potter was young but it was absolutely immaculate.

He stowed it on top of his four-poster and ran back down just in time to not be late for history of magic where they were all bored to death by Professor Binns over minor details of the fifth goblin rebellion in 1356. He spent the hour writing two lists: the first consisted of all the questions he had to ask Dumbledore and the other teachers about his family and the second was all of the things he had to read up on regarding the Potter family, invisibility cloaks, Lord Voldemort and cursed scars. He was desperately grateful that it was Friday and he had no classes over the weekend so that he could spend the time learning important things.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Read and review please, don't pull any punches

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME


	25. Part 25

TTTTTTTTTTT

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc. are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc. but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects. If any of you would like to PM me a review or opinions or just talk about my story, please do so.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 25: Three curses and a Promise Fulfilled.

Harry had been in the library since dawn, taking with him a stack of toast, bowl of cereal and a bacon, sausage and egg sandwich made for him by Dean.

The sandwich was gone, the milk congealing in the bowl and the toast crumbs had been eaten by a mouse which was now being digested by Nidhogg who was resting in the folds of the invisibility cloak on the desk next to Harry and his pile of books.

Harry's eyes were aching as the midday sun broke through a stained glass window showing a tall ancient man in a white robe. His head was shaved at the front and he held a golden sickle in his right hand.

Harry took his glasses off and closed the book which thumped in the silent library. The book was titled _The Scars of Darkness _and detailed many side-effects that people experienced following magical warfare and injuries caused by dark magic. Apparently injuries caused by dark magic were lingering and slow to heal, if they could be healed at all and many dark spells had been designed to weaken their victims in the long-term as much if not more than at the time of casting. One example – not named specifically – caused the victim's blood to seep out through his pores; when a counter-curse and cure were discovered, it was found that survivors also had to deal with months and years of blood-borne infections and a weakened immune system. As many victims died of the aftereffects as did of the curse itself.

But there was nothing that referenced scars hurting of their own accord after so long without pain. There were injuries that plagued their bearers with pain for the rest of their lives, but there was nothing that quite matched.

The source of his scar itself had turned up something both fascinating and worrying. The first book he had taken down from the shelves had been called _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and dealt with the war against Voldemort in incredible detail and thankfully made no presumptions or leaps of logic as did most books that in any way concerned Harry.

He had read, near the end of the book about Voldemort's demise in a village called Godric's Hollow where he used something called the killing curse to end the lives of James Potter – an auror with the ministry of magic – and his wife Lily Potter (née Evans) who was a noted healer and master of charms. Voldemort then turned his wand on Harry, but for reasons unknown failed to kill him and was himself destroyed.

This had led Harry to another book on combat magic which made mention of three 'unforgivable' spells which were apparently so foul that the use of any of them was considered an act of evil in all the countries governed by the Wizenagemot and would result in life imprisonment, usually in Azkaban.

The three spells were each very different, but all were terrible: the first was the torture curse which inflicted terrible pain on the victim for as long as the attacker desired; the second was a curse of domination which forced a victim to behave exactly as the attacker instructed them and the third was the killing curse. According to the book it was a curse of instant death, for which there was no known protective enchantment, incantation or charm; the only way to survive it was to dodge it.

The one-year old Harry couldn't have dodged a spell even if he'd have known what was happening and various books hypothesised how an otherwise normal magically awakened infant could have survived a spell that had killed thousands throughout the centuries. After the first few that dubbed him a messiah or saviour, Harry gave up and continued reading about magical injuries.

And that was how he had arrived at midday with tired eyes and a headache throbbing at the base of his skull. He stood, pushing his chair out and stretching his legs.

'Is everything well?' Nidhogg asked, still concealed beneath the cloak.

'Fine, I'm just stiff.' Harry said, walking around the desk and putting away a few books. There were only three other people in the library, mostly NEWT students from the look of them getting in a few extra hours of revision.

'Is it time yet?' Nidhogg asked. He had been badgering Harry about them going together to Hagrid's house all night and day.

'Soon. Are you sure this is a good idea?' Harry asked.

'Yessss.'

Harry was full of trepidation about stealing the egg from Hagrid and giving it over to Nidhogg for whatever he had planned, but he wouldn't deny his tiny friend anything. He had decided that the best place to keep Nidhogg would be on the third floor in one of the abandoned classrooms and under the invisibility cloak. According to the tiny snake he would need to sleep for a very long time and so Harry could leave him there without concern while he slept. It was all in place, all he needed was the egg.

'How long will you sleep?' Harry asked for at least the fifth time.

'I do not know, we normally sleep through the cold moons, but this will be longer I think.'

That was more than the little snake had said before at least. Harry sat down again, his mind too full. Between classes and homework, Nidhogg and the egg, Dumbledore and the cloak and all the research he wanted – needed – to do he had no time to think or rest.

He cupped his hands over his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the warm musty scent of the library._ I need to prioritise, _he thought_, take one thing at a time. That way I can just do each thing as it comes. _

That idea refreshed him. The most pressing issue at that moment was the stress that Nidhogg was causing, worrying him about the egg and his limited time. That would be it.

Harry opened his eyes and leaned forward over the cloak. 'Right, I'm going to get you the egg, you can eat it or whatever you're going to do,' their conversations regarding Nidhogg's plans for the egg had been hampered by his still slightly limited vocabulary, 'and then sleep in the hidden classroom. I found a spell that will take care of the warmth that you need. It lasts for up to a week at a time if I can get it perfect, but until then I'll just have to keep checking on it, okay?'

'Okay.'

Harry stood, removed Nidhogg from the cloak and transferred him to his sleeve where he wound around Harry's upper arm, his head appearing at his collar. He slung his father's cloak over his arm, hiding the snake and left the library.

Nidhogg hid while Harry walked through the castle until he pulled the cloak over him in a broom cupboard near the main entrance. They slipped out, invisible and made their way out into the grounds. It was a cool, clear day outside and the fresh air stung Harry's nose after the mustiness of the library. They avoided long grassy areas where possible, sticking to paths where no accidental onlooker could see their movements. Hadrig's hut was set far back from the castle in the direction of the forbidden forest. Harry bolted the last few hundred metres even though there was not a person in sight.

He drew up a stone's throw from the huge house and swallowed hard. He had never been torn between two actions before and unfortunately the for and against arguments in his head both boiled down to love: He loved Nidhogg and wanted to do everything in his power to make him happy, whereas Hagrid had been the one to introduce him to the wizarding world, to start to teach him about his history.

'What is the matter?' Nidhogg asked, his tongue tickling Harry's neck.

'Nothing.' Harry's fists clenched and he steeled himself.

He walked to the hut, crept up the front steps and listened at the door. Silence. Moving to the edge of what stood as a porch, he rose onto tiptoes and looked through one dirty window. Inside was almost completely dark; the only light coming from a roaring open fire in the huge grate which illuminated Hagrid's living room in dancing reds and yellows. The huge kettle hung over the blaze.

Harry took a deep breath and tried the door. When it didn't open he waved his wand, spoke a word and it clicked open. With a last furtive look behind him to check for witnesses, Harry slipped through the open door, shut it behind him and pulled the cloak off.

The inside of the hut was full of the smell of cooked meat and blood, there was a fresh deer carcass on the seven-foot-tall table in the kitchen that was in the process of being jointed. The deer's left eye stared blankly, accusingly at him.

Hurrying over to the kettle, Harry pulled on Hagrid's thick gloves and tried to lift the kettle but it must have weighed as much as he did. Wincing against the fire, He pulled a stool over and lifted the lid from the kettle. '_Lumos_.' He said and smiled as the light revealed the baking sand. He prodded the sand until it touched something hard and, pulling the gloves on tighter, he dug down, biting his lip against the heat and with a grunt of effort pulled the egg free. He extinguished his wand, transferred the egg to his book bag which he slung across his shoulder then replaced the lid, stool and gloves. His face was slick with sweat and his heart pounding. Licking his lips, he checked the whole area over, swept some sand toward the flames and was eventually satisfied. The egg was so hot he could feel it radiating through his bag and clothes as he returned to the door and pulled the cloak back on, making sure it covered the bulging bag. He pulled the door open and shut, tapped it with his wand to relock it and hurried back to the castle.

Nidhogg was tense against him as he climbed the steps toward the main entrance.

'What's the matter?' Harry asked, 'You'd better not be changing your mind.'

'No. This is a great deed Harry Potter, a great service you do me. There hasn't been a great serpent created since _He_ woke the one that now sleeps in the bowels of Hogwartssss.'

Harry didn't respond and moved aside to let a group of students in their weekend clothes hurry past, laughing and joking. When the coast was clear he moved again. 'You mean Voldemort, don't you?'

'Yesss…'

'And you think that whatever you're going to do with this egg is going to change you?'

'It is certain.'

Harry ascended the great stair in silence and waited for the moving steps to move. When able, he hurried to the top, careful to avoid his feet showing under the edge of the cloak. The door to the third floor was open and inside he saw that Fred and George's clubhouse was bright and busy. Fortunately, the adventure of the day before had resulted in large sections of the floor being swept clean so there was no need for him to hide his footsteps as he walked to the fifth classroom along.

Inside it was bitterly cold as Harry cast a spell to warm an area roughly one metre cubed. He hadn't practiced it much but it should last at least twenty-four hours.

He pulled the cloak off as the air in front of him shimmered slightly. He had chosen the furthest corner of what seemed to be a muggle-studies class because it was full of absurd illustrations of disassembled home appliances and (mostly incorrect) diagrams of the function of electricity.

He had cast the spell inside an empty storage cupboard filled with dusty shelves. It was as near to a perfect place he could imagine. There was no reason anyone would ever investigate the place.

'It's ready.' He said.

A shudder ran down Niddhog's length and he unwound from Harry's arm then dropped to the floor with a dull thump.

Harry took the cloak off, setting it to one side and withdrew the egg from his bag. It was still so hot he had to put it down immediately on the shelf and saw that his hands were bright red like they'd been on the verge of being scalded.

'What now?' He asked, blowing on his tender palms.

'Now I see what can happen.' The tiny snake said, winding up next to the egg that was several times his own size.

Harry nodded. 'Be careful.' He picked up the cloak and placed it over the shelves, holding it in place with three large books. When done he stepped back and saw, to his amazement that it had hidden only Nidhogg and the egg, leaving the shelves hidden. The cloak itself was invisible and to the entire world it seemed that the small cupboard was still bare. Like it knew what I wanted. He thought.

'Goodnight Nidhogg.' Harry said, turning and closing the door. The last thing he heard was a low sonorous hissing.

Harry cleared up after himself, making sure that there were no signs to point to the cupboard and left the classroom, tapping that lock with his wand and hearing the click.

Still torn, he padded down the hallway. Part of him was anxious about what he was allowing – encouraging even – to happen, while another colder part was just relieved to have taken something off his to-do list.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME


	26. Part 26

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc. are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.

Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.

Review please whether you like it or not. Tell me what you do and do not like and why! I do love having my ego stroked with 'Wow, great!' etc. but it's not as useful for my process as having some real examples and effects. If any of you would like to PM me a review or opinions or just talk about my story, please do so.

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Chapter 26: Hidden in Plain Sight

Harry didn't plan on lingering long in the clubhouse, but his entrance was greeted by woops of congratulations and applause.

The room was smoky and hot with many mingled smells. Different colours floated in the smoke as one of the Twins Weasley appeared and shook Harry vigorously by the hand.

'And welcome to the new Marauder!' he said, lifting Harry's hand in the air as if he were the champion of a boxing match.

Cheers went up around the room again, louder this time and other faces appeared from the smoke, most of whom he didn't know. He was pulled deeper into the class and a smoking goblet thrust into his hand.

'Drink this Harry,' It was Boris Karterion, a third year Slytherin all bone and sinewy muscle.

'What is it?' Harry asked sniffing.

'It's brilliant, Boris makes it himself.' The other twin said. Harry realised that they were fortunately wearing different colour t-shirts; the first in green and the other purple.

Harry took a tentative sip from the goblet and almost choked as a thick, blueberry flavoured liquid coated his mouth and rushed down his throat. The heat faded in seconds and he was left with a warm, fuzzy feeling of contentment that he could almost feel seeping through his veins as slow as tree sap.

'Look at his hair!' someone shouted. Harry couldn't discern who was speaking. He felt light as a cloud, as if he would float out of his chair at any moment.

Suddenly Fay was kneeling in front of him holding a huge hand mirror and grinning widely, her teeth were the pale blue of a tropical sea which somehow made her large blue eyes even more striking. _She's so pretty._ He thought.

Voices around him whistled and whooped again, all sounding distant and hazy as someone shook him by the shoulder with a hand that felt like it was made of cotton wool. Fay blushed violently and Harry grimaced as he realised he'd spoken aloud.

Harry felt a grin spread over his own face as looked from Fay to the mirror. His mouth fell open as he saw that his jet black hair had turned an incredible shade of bubblegum blue.

'Wha…?' He reached up and touch his hair, it felt absolutely normal. A chuckle emerged from his mouth and he looked at the twin; something said that it was George.

'What's in that drink?' He said, still giggling.

The twin shrugged, falling onto a couch next to him. 'It's just a home-made version of butterbeer that Boris came up with, tastes great doesn't it?'

'Mmm.' Harry had no idea what butterbeer was, but he liked this homebrew. 'Why is my hair blue?'

George held up his hands palms-down, his fingernails were the blue of a summers evening. 'No idea, he can't figure it out either. Whoever takes a drink of it has some part of them turn blue for a while. It doesn't last long but it's always the same part; very weird, but interesting. Totally against the rules, of course and if you tell any of the teachers we'll transfigure you into a dormouse and give you to Mrs Norris.'

Harry laughed along with George, but wondered deep down inside how serious the threat was. His mind was becoming clearer again, but he felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 'What're you doing here, surely the teachers know that you're using an out-of-bounds corridor?'

'Dumbledore definitely does, he said as much a couple of days ago when we "ran into him" while we were looting confiscated stuff from Filch's office. McGonagall seems to know everything that goes on around here, too. As for the others, they either don't know or don't care. Most of them have given up trying to control me, Fred and Lee as well as Boris and a couple of others. Lukas and Sabrina – they're not here today – are nearly as notorious as us but I think old Flitwick encourages them to be honest. It all comes down to the fact that this place isn't being used and we're going to get up to _mischief,_' He emphasised the word by sketching air quotes with his fingers, 'and this way we're well away from any collateral damage or exposing any innocents who we might corrupt.' He chortled and took a long swig from one of the smoking goblets.

Harry smiled and looked in the mirror again, wondering absently where Fay had gone; he was aware he'd said something embarrassing but couldn't quite recall.

'So, I hear you saw something big and scary up here yesterday?' said Fred who was leaning over the back of Harry's chair, his face only inches away.

Harry jumped, 'How long have you been there?'

'Always…' Fred said in a misty voice then grinned. 'Did you see… a giant dog?'

Harry's mouth fell open. 'H-how did you know?'

Fred rolled off the chair and sat on the arm. 'We're in the business of knowing as much as humanly possible about what goes on in this castle, that way we can get all the good things in from outside that are banned, recover whatever that idiot Filch confiscates and of course only get in trouble for the things that don't really matter.'

'That and Fay told us.' Said Lee Jordan, Fred and George's best friend who's eyes were currently iris and pupil-less blue orbs. He was spread out on the hearth a few feet from Harry, which had _definitely_ been unoccupied a few seconds before.

Harry rubbed his face, _That drink is fun but dangerous_. He'd spent almost all his life honing his instincts and attentiveness in order to evade or escape Dudley's schemes and to suddenly be so suddenly oblivious to his surroundings was unnerving.

'That's not strictly the whole truth now, is it?' George asked reeling in his seat. His fingernails were so blue they were almost glowing now. 'We knew that there was something big up here and that it was almost certainly canine from the barking we hear from time to time. Between that and all the teacher-traffic we have up here we know they're hiding something.'

'It's just nice to have it confirmed. Never dreamed it'd be a Cerberus though…' Fred finished his brother's sentence for him. 'You were bloody lucky to get away in one piece, you know.'

Harry nodded. 'If the teachers are always coming up here, how do you keep this place a secret?'

Lee's happy face broke into an absurdly smug grin. 'That's all me, baby! Fidelius charm.'

'What's that?'

'Oh god, I keep forgetting you're not familiar with all this stuff.' Fred said. 'A Fidelius charm is this really complicated thing for keeping secrets. When you cast it you say what you want kept secret and nominate a secret-keeper and from then on the target of the spell can't be seen, heard, felt or anything by anyone who hasn't been told about it by either the caster or the secret-keeper. It's an immensely difficult spell, way past even NEWT level I'd say – took Lee the last two years to get it right.'

'He's a bit obsessive is our Lee.' George said in a mock whisper loud enough to be heard by the whole room.

'Yeah, well you're bloody-well glad I am now, ain't ya?' Lee asked, still grinning.

'Amen.' Said Fred and George together.

'So let me get this right,' Said Harry, trying to work out how the spell worked. 'Because no one has told the teachers where and what this place is, they can't find it?'

'Correct.' Said Lee.

'And new people can only see it if someone already in the know shows them?'

'Affirmative.' Nodded George.

'So what happens if, say, Filch was to walk in here right now?'

'He'd see an abandoned classroom on an abandoned floor covered in dust and cobwebs.' Fred said. 'We've cast loads of spells on the room so that things that were here before Lee cast the Fidelius still appear to be in place to anyone not in-the-know. Clever, eh?'

'It's genius.' Harry was genuinely impressed. He was hearing of and reading new spells every day. Fidelius could come in especially useful for Nidhogg if Harry could create some kind of carrier for him to the rest of the world was a normal bag. 'You'll have to teach me that one day.'

'Dream on kiddo, just because you're the boy-who-lived doesn't mean I'm going to give away the secrets of something as powerful as the Fideilus charm. It took me years to learn it and it's going to make me a lot of gold in this school.' Dean's face was still happy but a little more serious.

Harry was taken aback by the sudden change in the normally smiley boy with the dark brown skin and fly away tightly curled hair. A cold shiver ran through him despite the heat of the room. 'Right, okay then.' He said, 'I'll just learn it myself.'

Lee laughed, 'Good luck, it's stupidly complicated.' He stood and wandered off toward another group.

Harry could feel that his face was flushed. He realised how absurd he was being and how used he was to getting his way just by being famous Harry Potter. From Diagaon Alley to Hagrid's invitation to lunch and even Dumbledore letting him off lightly for rule-breaking, maybe Snape was right. _Maybe I do have too high an opinion of myself_. He wondered, brooding.

'Don't you worry about Lee, Harry, he's very protective of his secrets; he wasn't happy when we started showing other people where this place was, believe me.' Fred said as he munched on a chocolate frog.

'I'm not worried; I guess it was a bit of a reality-check.' Harry replied, brooding. 'Ever since I found out that I was a wizard, people have been giving me special treatment because of who I am. It's actually kind of…' _insulting, galling, offensive_ '… refreshing that someone's not just going to give me what I want.' _I'll have it though, I'll show smirking Lee Jordan, I'll have that spell working by this time next year._

'Cheer up, you moody git.' George said, throwing a cushion which hit Harry in the face and somehow dislodged the downward turn his mood had taken.

Harry grabbed another cushion and threw it back at George, groaning as it went wide. Before he could react, Fred had swung the first cushion back into his face, sending him reeling backward.

The chair they shared rocked and Harry kicked out, laughing and pulled Fred, overbalancing the chair and sending them both crashing to the floor.

Fred landed on top of Harry, knocking the wind out of him but they were both laughing. Whirling faces, several of whom he barely even recognised, put hands on him and lifted him to his feet. Apparently, persons' eyes could adjust to this magical foggy smoke and Harry saw for the first time that the massive room held at least a dozen people. They were from all years in the school and of all the houses, though there were notably few Ravenclaws, the majority were Gryffindors and Slytherins, their gold and red and silver and green scarves, pins, jackets and badges contrasted sharply but Harry saw them intermingling.

'So not everyone hates the Slytherins?' Harry asked dreamily.

'Nah.' It was Boris, perched cross-legged on a poof. 'Problem with most of my fellow snakes is that they're too concerned with living up to old Salazar's legacy of pure-blood perfection. I'm pureblood, but who cares? There're kids in my year who can blast me halfway along the great hall and that's _with_ me using a shielding charm. Way I figure it, you've either got it or you don't, simple.'

'He's a bit of a philosopher, our Boris, aren't you mate?' Fred said, offering Harry another sip of the drink.

Harry shook his head as Boris grinned widely, showing off teeth as blue as sapphires. 'Way I figure it,' sniffed the lean fourteen year old, 'is that halfbloods have the best of it, and by halfbloods I mean people with one long-line magic parent and another muggleborn. They have the learning and experience of the long-line and that… explosiveness that muggleborns have, probably from having magic fresh from the well, if you know what I mean?'

Harry wasn't certain he did understand, but nodded to avoid seeming dull. 'That's me, my dad was pureblood and my mom muggleborn.'

'Well everyone knows that, don't they?' Laughed Boris, 'Lily and James Potter, famous enemies of You-Know-Who and their famous dark-lord-slaying nipper 'Arry.'

Harry smiled sheepishly.

'Don't tease him, Boris,' said Fay, appearing at Harry's side.

Boris feigned the surprise that Harry felt and sketched a mocking bow aimed at Fay, 'Well I am sorry my lady, I never meant to offend the greatest should-have-been-Slytherin ever born!'

'Shut up, I've asked you not to say that!' Fay said, flushing scarlet.

'What does he mean by that?' Harry said inquisitively.

'Ah, you don't know?' Fred said, dodging a slap from Fay, 'Our little miss Dunbar here was expected to be sorted into Slytherin like her dad, granddad and so on going _waaaaaay_ back.' He cried out when Fay managed to stamp on his toes.

'Shut up!' She said, 'if anyone's going to tell Harry it's me. Yeah, my dad's and most of my family have always been Slytherins until my dad married my mom who was a muggleborn Gryffindor and shook the whole family up. I've got two older brothers both in Slytherin and everyone swore blind I'd go there too.'

Harry shrugged, 'The sorting hat didn't know whether to put me in Slytherin or Gryffindor.' He said matter-of-factly.

The effect on Fay was immediate, she darted forward and hugged him tightly, making him go rigid as he always did. 'Oh Harry, thank the gods, I thought I was the only one.'

Wolf-whistles filled the room again.

Harry managed to squirm and Fay released him. 'What's so special about that?'

'Well it's the old rivalry, isn't it? Salazar and Godric were best of friends when they founded the Hogwarts, but were torn apart by their attitudes to the future of wizarding. You hear about people stuck between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw or Slytherin and Hufflepuff all the time, but almost never the…' she leant in close and whispered in his ear, 'the big two.'

'What does the big two mean?'

Fred pulled on Harry's sleeve, 'Don't let the 'Huffs or Ravens hear you say that they'll skin you alive. Big Two is just about the fact that almost every famous witch or wizard from the last couple hundred years has been a lion or snake. The bookworms don't have the people-skills and the badgers lack… ambition, shall we say to really make it big. The snakes and lions have it all, as long as there's some brains in there.' He emphasised his point by tapping on Harry's head with his knuckles.

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Harry remained in the clubhouse until the light outside started to fade and most of the occupants wandered down to dinner. His hair had long since darkened back to normal just as Fay's teeth were their original pearly white.

They had spent most of their time together in the clubhouse talking about their lives and histories and Harry was amazed at the complexity of being a younger child in an old house. Given that he was the heir to Great House Potter and when he came of age at seventeen would be invested with all their wealth and estates.

The rest of the first year lions asked where Harry and Fay had been all day which, to Harry's relief gave him an alibi for the whole day when Fay said they'd been practicing the body-bind jinx from the previous weeks Defence Against The Dark Arts class on the fourth floor all day.

Harry ate his dinner then started working on his stacks of homework with the others. He went to bed that night hoping that Nidhogg was alright, any guilt at his theft washed clean by his friends need.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME


	27. Part 27

I'm quite pleased that this story is provoking both love and hate from my readers. Without conflict there can be no growth. For all those harping on about how "You clearly have no experience of abuse" etc, blah, blah, there is clearly one thing you are missing in your presumption: Harry is no ordinary boy. He is simultaneously an eleven-year old boy, powerfully magically active, a host to 1/7th of the soul of Voldemort and a friend to snakes. For all those who have suffered abuse in your lives, I'm sincerely sorry, but your life is not Harry's and your problems are not his.

It has been a VERY long time since I updated for which I apologise. I've been suffering with phenomenal writers-block and a stressful worklife and they've both taken their toll on my creativity. To those who have stuck with me, all I can say is: Your patience and perseverance is appreciated. Thank you.

There is a disclaimer on all previous chapters and I do not recommend you reading this or any subsequent chapters before the earlier ones.

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Chapter 27: Looking Forward to Punishment.

Hagrid wasn't at breakfast the following day, nor lunch or dinner. Harry spent most of the day practicing spells with Dean, Fay, Hermione and Parvatti next to the lake until they were driven inside by a cold rain.

At breakfast on Monday morning, Harry received notification that his detention would be served with Madame Hooch for the three hours preceding the Halloween feast, which was to start at six pm. Thanks to the feast, they would only have three classes that day, with Charms after lunch followed by a free period. The fact that they were mercifully dodging Snape's late afternoon of potions was almost enough to make Harry dance along the corridors on the way to their Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

Quirrell seemed even more distracted than normal that morning, fidgeting and only managing to complete a handful of sentences without stumbling over the words. He was so clearly flustered that he repeatedly lost track of where he was in the class and at one point was scared so badly by a shadow that he had to sit for five minutes with his head between his knees.

It was during the final minutes of the lesson, when Quirrell was summarising what the class should have learned on the blackboard that Harry felt the stabbing pain lance through his scar again. He managed to bite his tongue which caught the scream that was rising in his throat. The world receded around him until all he could see, hear and feel was the back of Quirrell's head and the way his own fingers were digging into the wooden desk in front of him.

…_do it, it is imperative!_ A high voice, full of fury screeched in Harry's head.

Then a voice that was unmistakably Quirrell's replied, _But my lord, there is the risk to the children, I cannot endanger them._

_You fool, do you really think that those pathetic creatures actually matter?_ The high voice sneered, _When I have the stone and am returned to my full power then all the world shall know peace. Then you shall be rewarded._

_And _you swear that I will be free?

Are you not happy with the service that you are rendering me, Quirinius? Does my presence here so fill you with revulsion that you would rather be without me, is that it?

The Quirrell-voice seemed to shrink in on itself in terror. _No my lord, no, never. I am proud and happy to serve you._

_You had better be; you wouldn't want me leaving you before the proper time now, would you?_

Harry felt a distant pain in his left middle finger as the nail broke against the desk and the Quirrel-voice screamed out in agony. At the same time, the Quirrell that was standing in the classroom seemed to convulse and almost fall to the ground as a violent shudder tore through him.

_P-p-please m-master no, no more, I beg of you!_ The Quirrell voice cried out as his body leant against the blackboard.

Then know your place and do as I tell you! The other voice said. Make sure that it is in place before the start of the meal.

_It will be done, master, I-I-I s-swear_. Quirrell said, turning around and straightening. He was visibly sweating.

As soon as he had turned, the voice had vanished and Harry came back to himself, suddenly aware that Dean was shaking him.

'Harry, Harry, why did you do that?' He said, concerned.

'What?...' he replied a moment before the pain in his finger started to burn in earnest. There was a small pool of blood on the table and his fingernail was snapped right back and peeled away from its bed.

'Professor, Harry's hurt his hand.' Dean said, standing and waving at Quirrell whose face was waxy.

'W-what?' Quirrell asked, his eyes focussing on the class again.

'It's Harry, sir. He's hurt his hand and needs to go to the hospital wing.'

'No, it's okay, I'm fine.' Harry said, mopping up the blood with a tissue that was nowhere near large enough for the job.

Quirrell walked over to them breathing heavily and held out his hand. 'Let me s-s-see, Potter.'

'It's nothing.' Harry said but relented under the stern look on Quirrell's face and held out the wounded finger.

Quirrell reached out and gently touched the tip of Harry's finger.

The reaction was instantaneous. Quirrell released a bark of pain and jumped back, shaking his hand which Harry was certain was smoking slightly.

Cradling his injured appendage, Quirrell looked at Harry with an expression of mingled fear, shock and anger. 'Go Potter, the hospital wing. Now. You, Thomas, go with him.'

Harry, eager to get away and more than a little confused, grabbed his bag with his free hand and led Dean from the room without another word to Quirrell. He caught the eye of Faye and Ron before the door closed and saw looks of concern.

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Harry decided to use the opportunity to test out a minor healing spell instead of heading to the hospital wing. It took three tries and Dean holding on to his injured finger before the nail was successfully reattached and pain-free.

'That's really good mate, who taught you that?' Dean asked, admiring the smooth and unbroken skin.

Harry shrugged. 'I just looked a few spells up after the flying thing with Hermione the other day. I've been waiting to give them a try.'

They continued along the corridor and Harry fell to brooding about what he had heard in Quirrell's head. In a moment of enlightenment, he realised that it wasn't the first time he'd heard another person's thoughts. The memory of Aunt Petunia's nervous misery returned to him. This was something that he needed to investigate.

'Tell you what, Dean,' he said, 'I'm going to head on up to the library, just to get this checked out. You go back to Quirrell, okay?'

'You sure? I don't mind missing that idiot.'

'Yeah, I'll be fine.'

Dean turned back down the corridor and took three steps before looking back at Harry, one eyebrow raised. 'Did you hear how he didn't stutter at all after you gave him that electric shock?'

Harry blinked. Quirrell's stammer _had_ disappeared. 'No, I didn't notice. Maybe it was just the shock.'

Dean gave him a searching look before shrugging and carrying on down the corridor.

Harry waited until Dean was out of sight before doubling back and heading to the library.

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He emerged with five minutes to spare before lunch carrying three books on a rare branch of magic called Legilimency which, according to Madame Pince, was the art of reading minds and its sister; Occlumency which was the art of defending the mind from attackers. He ran up to Gryffindor tower and deposited them on his bed before heading down to the great hall.

'You're a lucky git, you know that?' Ron said when they were eating dinner.

Harry nodded, 'I know.' His detention was to be spent giving the school brooms their annual service to ensure they were in the best possible condition and most of all; safe. But what he had heard while in the class with Quirrell still worried him. Was "the dog" that he had mentioned the Cerberus in the third floor corridor?

Everything was going well: Nidhogg had what he wanted, Harry's detention couldn't really have turned out any better and the clubhouse was as secure a place as anyone could ever ask for. The only thing that dampened Harry's spirits was that he missed Nidhogg's small warm body next to him at night. That and a small niggling fear that he might be losing his mind and imagining he could hear other's thoughts.

After lunch, they went to Charms with tiny Professor Flitwick who was shorter than even Lavender Brown. Flitwick was Harry's second favourite teacher after Professor McGonagall and his lessons were always enjoyable, if difficult.

They spent the lesson practicing the _wingardium leviosa_ spell on feathers. Harry was paired with Seamus who, due to his lazy pronunciation and half-hearted wandwork, kept setting fire to the feathers. Harry managed the spell after a few attempts, but was amazed by Hermione Granger who managed it on her first try. She was paired with Ron Weasley who kept making cruel and ignorant remarks about the spell and Hermione herself.

'You're just trying to be Flitwick's pet, just like everyone else's.' Ron said near the end of the class.

Hermione had spent the whole class weathering Weasley's remarks and looked to be on the verge of tears. Harry leant over toward them and stared at Ron. 'Why don't you shut up?'

Both Ron and Hermione looked back wide-eyed.

'What?' Ron asked, his mouth sagging open.

'I said, why don't you shut up? All you've done this lesson is act like a prat to her,' Harry said, gesturing to Hermione who had the barest hint of a smile on her lips, 'when all she's tried to do is help you.'

Ron's face flushed a violent shade of red that ran all the way to the tips of his ears.

Without waiting for a reply, Harry returned to his seat, cleared his throat and made his feather soar into the air.

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After the class, Harry went with Faye, Hermione and Dean down to the grounds to kill an hour before the start of his detention.

To their pleasant surprise, they found the NEWT Defence Against the Dark Arts students duelling and practicing spells under the watchful eye of Professors McGonagall and, to Harry's amazement; Dumbledore.

One interesting difference Harry noticed between most of the duellers and the rest of the older students and teachers at Hogwarts was how thin they were. Most of the inhabitants of Hogwarts were at best well-fed and worst massively fat; a symptom of having every chose and duty taken care of by either magic or the elusive house elves. The duellers were all fit and in great condition, dancing and moving with a frenetic energy as their spells whirled through the air blasting, screaming and screaming to create more effects than Harry had imagined. One blue-haired boy with a diamond stud in his left ear transfigured his opponent's wand into a snake that bit and poisoned its owner. A Japanese girl created a bubble around herself that deflected every spell that six attackers could throw at her until a huge, broad chested boy with a goatee threw a bolt of arcing electricity so intense that it shattered the bubble and blasted the girl off her feet.

Tonks was there too, she seemed to prefer spells that improved her own ability. One made her move at triple speed, allowing her to literally run circles around her opponent before striking him down with a jinx that appeared to de-bone his legs and a curse that sealed his lips shut.

When their faces were all varnished by sweat and many nursing many injuries, the teachers gave them a ten minute break.

'Wotcher Harry?' Tonks said, limping over to them, the after-effects of a blasting spell paining her.

'That was amazing.' Dean said, grinning.

'Cheers, remind me to show it to you some time.'

'How about now?' Harry asked, grinning.

Tonks shook her head. 'I doubt Dumbledore would appreciate me showing you NEWT-level magic, Harry.'

Harry looked over at the headmaster who was talking animatedly and demonstrating proper wand technique to a small group of students.

Tonks scratched her sunflower yellow hair. 'Tell you what, the school will be pretty empty on Saturday, it's a Hogsmeade weekend y'see and I don't fancy going. I'll show you a few things then, okay?'

The four young lions agreed vigorously and wished Tonks luck as she returned to the group of duellers. McGonagall had taken out her wand and was demonstrating a spell which created a beam of scarlet light and made Tonks' wand jump out of her hand.

A voice behind Harry made the whole group jump. 'Good afternoon.'

They all turned around and looked up into the twinkling eyes of Dumbledore.

'I think it's about time you were on your way to your detention with Madame Hooch isn't it, Harry?' he said with a small smile on his lips.

Harry nodded sheepishly. 'Probably sir, I just got a bit caught up.'

'I can understand how you would; NEWT-level defensive magic is some of the most impressive that you can learn at Hogwarts, though if I do say so myself, it does pale in comparison to Transfiguration, which is my own favourite subject. Now off you go, you don't want to be late for the feast later, do you?'

Harry smiled and took off in the direction of the quidditch pitch, waving farewell to the others. His heart was soaring in anticipation of three whole hours with one of the greatest quidditch instructors in the country.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME


	28. Part 28

There is a disclaimer on all previous chapters and I do not recommend you reading this or any subsequent chapters before the earlier ones. This is a major reimagining of the original narrative of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and really needs to be read from the start.

And yes, I've checked moon charts for 1991 and the description is correct.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 28: Fire and Ice.

Harry's hands were tired and patchy with stains from the oil used to maintain the broomstick handles when he emerged from the supply room. He had enjoyed himself a little more than expected but much more than feared.

He had spent three hours rubbing oil and wax into the fifty school broomsticks that were being serviced while Hooch regaled him with stories of her days as a quidditch professional. She told him tales including the time the England team had come second in the world cup, suffering a narrow defeat at the hands of Japan following the England keeper suffering two broken arms. He took the opportunity to learn as much as possible about the game, asking more questions in a few hours than he could ever remember in the Dursley's house. She answered every question and actually seemed pleased to have some company for what was – in reality – a fairly dull task.

After they were waxed and their bristles checked, each broom had to be tested and to Harry's delight, Hooch let him ride a few brooms as practice while she checked them all over in a few minutes. He sped around faster than on any of their lesson, exhilarated by the autumn air whipping his skin.

His stomach growled angrily as he ran up the steps back toward the castle and through the north gates. He slowed as he entered the bailey which only a few hours ago had been bustling and crowded with students. Now it was silent and still, lit only by stars and the waning moon which was a fat curve in the sky.

It was a cool, clear night with almost no wind and he longed to be back on a broom. He entered the castle through the north door and was about to cross the bridge toward the great hall when he stopped short. He was standing in a vast muddy footprint more than a foot across with only three toes. A series of the prints led toward the dungeons, preceded by another set of man-sized prints. Harry's eyes narrowed as he remembered the high voice speaking inside Quirrell's head which had demanded that "it" be in place before the start of the meal which had to mean the feast. He scratched his head in a moment of indecision before deciding that it would be stupid to just barge into the great hall declaring that one of the Professors was doing something that involved something somewhere near the south-facing classrooms. That was too many questions and not enough information.

He pulled out his wand and followed the prints south.

At the end of the corridor they descended the winding stairs to the dungeons. It was weird how eerily silent it was: every sound was amplified until the soft tapping of his shoes became giant falling boulders and the hush of his breath was a howling tornado. A voice bought him up sharp just before a corner and he pressed himself against the wall, breathing hard.

There were two people – or one person and a creature with a voice like breaking rocks – speaking a language that was like nothing Harry had ever heard. Thick, guttural grunts seemed to dominate the conversation which only lasted a few seconds before the swoosh of robes and tapping of boots on the stone floor started heading toward Harry.

Suddenly, his mouth dry and wand slick in sweaty palms, Harry had to make a decision. He darted through the nearest door and left it slightly ajar. A few seconds later, a man in pale purple robes rushed past the door. Harry swallowed hard when he saw that the figure also wore a large turban.

A prickle of hot anger trickled up his spine from some dark part of him and he knew what to do. He emerged from the classroom as the first booming sounds came from back down the corridor. He rounded the corner and saw the creature. It was a troll, the image of it one straight out of his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbooks and it was terrible to behold.

It was twelve feet tall so that its head, tiny on a neck thick as a tree truck neck brushed the ceiling. The skin was the mottled colour of moss-covered stones and was pebbly with warts. Patches of sparse, bristling hair covered its body which was pear-shaped, with a massive gut and legs thicker than Harry's whole torso. The arms were long and thick with corded muscle and the three-fingered hands were lifting a long, gnarled club bigger than Harry over its head as it prepared to dash a statue to pieces.

Harry had been filled with visions of heroism, he had seen himself charging forth and slaying the great beast to save the castle before returning to the great hall and throwing its head onto Quirrell's lap and denouncing him as a traitor. But it all fell away in a single moment as the troll bought the club down and reduced a statue of some ancient wizard to dust.

Harry was transfixed and way out of his depth.

_What were you thinking, idiot boy?_ Uncle Vernon's voice asked in his head. _You thought you'd just go, slay a creature ten times your size and save the day?_

Harry's wand suddenly felt like a lead weight in his hand as he saw with a detached, horrified clarity, the troll sniffed the air and face him.

_Now you're going to die and all your stupidity will serve you right. You can go and be with your freak parents! _Vernon said, as clear as if he were standing next to him.

The troll sneered, revealing chipped grey and brown teeth the size of Harry's thumbs. There was no emotion in it's tiny pig-eyes as it took a step forward.

He remained transfixed to the spot like someone had used a spell on him, the name of which completely escaped his paralysed brain. It was ten steps away, nine… eight.

He heard Piers and Dennis laughing as Gordon and Malcolm held him down for Dudley to punch him over and over. _It serves you right, you little beast!_ Aunt Petunia screeched. _Not so brave now are you Potter?_ Snape sneered. How pathetic, you couldn't even get away from a stupid troll? Drawled Draco Malfoy.

The angry fire that had filled him was still there, but it was joined by a cold stillness as the voices washed over him. They were wrong. They didn't know anything about him.

The cold soothed over his fears. If the greatest Dark Lord in a century had failed, what chance did a pea-brained troll stand?

The heat swelled, filling him. He knew who he was. He had been through worse than this.

The troll was on him, raising the club overhead for a blow that would smash him to jelly.

His fist closed around his wand and he raised it as a word and a spell he had only read in a book came unbidden to his lips, he felt the magic tear up his throat as he bellowed, "_Stupefy_!"

The corridor echoed with the sound of his voice as a blinding flash of red light burst from his wand, hitting the troll full in the chest. Harry felt heat and cold flooding out of his body in the same instant, pouring into his wand and beyond. The troll rocked back on its heels with a grunt before being flung bodily backward a full ten feet and colliding with one of the arches which held up the ceiling and castle above. It came to land with a dull thud amidst a shower of brick dust.

Harry gasped at the emptiness inside him and the toll the spell had taken on him. His throat felt like it had been attacked with a cheese grater and his wand and fingertips were smoking slightly. He walked over to the troll and saw that it was staring up at the ceiling, its black eyes clouded and unfocused.

He turned on his heel and ran toward the great hall.

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He had been tired after casting tough spells before, but this time he felt like something vital had been sucked out of him. His legs burned within seconds of setting off and he developed a painful stitch as he took the stairs in twos. The only thing that made him carry on was the knowledge that Quirrell was responsible.

As he crossed the bridge to the west part of the castle, he saw a flutter of purple cloth disappear through the door at the end. Forcing his arms and legs to work faster, he tried to shout Quirrell's name but his throat was a raw, burned thing and no words came out.

The cold was returning as he passed through the same door and crossed beneath the Grand Staircase. The door to the Great Hall was open...

"… to know." Quirrell's voice said on the edge of hearing before a wall of noise erupted.

Harry burst through the doors three heartbeats later as Dumbledore stood at the head of the teachers' table and raised his wand and created purple explosions to quiet the chaos of screaming students. Quirrell had apparently fainted a few feet from the teachers' table and lay in a heap.

Running full-tilt down the hall, Harry came to a stop as Dumbledore raised a long-fingered hand out to him, palm outward, concern etched into every line of his ancient face.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Harry heard Percy Weasley's voice over the mumbled gossiping amidst which could clearly be heard his name being muttered.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

The Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff prefects did the same, leading out their houses followed by the majority of the teachers until all that remained in the Great Hall was Dumbledore, Heads of Houses McGonagall, Snape, Sprout and Flitwick, the motionless form of Quirrell hidden beneath the puddle of his robes and turban and Harry who was gasping and clutching a stitch that felt like someone had rammed a hot poker between his ribs.

"Professors Flitwick and Snape, please go to the dungeons at once and investigate this." Dumbledore said, stepping down from the raised platform where the teachers sat.

"But Headmaster, what about Potter?" McGonagall asked, looking a Harry with concern.

As he looked down, Harry saw that his wand was still clutched in his right hand and to his horror, his fingers wouldn't respond to release it.

Dumbledore and McGonagall stepped toward Harry together as Dumbledore nodded to Professor Sprout. "Pomona, you take Professor Quirrell to the hospital wing."

The squat Herbology teacher nodded and, seemingly without effort, lifted the unconscious form of Professor Quirrell in her thick arms.

Harry tried to protest, but all that came from his mouth was a scratching cough. "Kkk.. Prokesrr…"

"What happened, Potter!" McGonagall asked, putting her hand on his shoulder. "My god Albus, he's burning up."

Dumbledore knelt in front of Harry who was suddenly feeling light-headed and placed a cool hand on his brow. Harry was sure he saw a flicker of fear in those bright blue eyes, hidden immediately.

Suddenly Harry's legs failed him and he was caught by Dumbledore who lifted him into his arms effortlessly before setting him down on the corner of the Ravenclaw table. He touched the tip of his wand to Harry's chest and whispered "_Pax_" and a wave of relief rushed through his body, ending the pain in his limbs and soothing the gaping emptiness.

McGonagall looked at Harry's hand and gasped, looking down, he saw that the skin of his wand hand was blackened and looked to have been burned onto the surface of the wood. She quickly withdrew her own wand and pointed it at his clenched fist, muttering "Eximo", upon which his fingers opened just enough for his wand to clatter to the table top, still smoking slightly.

"What happened, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his voice stern but caring.

"T-T-there's a-a troll in the dungeon." Harry managed to rasp, his words sounding like the rustling of dry leaves.

"Yes, we know, that's what Professor Quirrell said."

Harry shook his head so hard he felt a crick in his neck. "No… you d-don't understand…"

"The poor boy, he must have been scared out of his mind." McGonagall said, raising a hand to her throat, "Put him to sleep Albus, for pity's sake."

"No!" Harry shouted, feeling something tear in his throat. "It was Quirrell that bought it. Something told him… something in his mind forced him, hurt him. Something in his turban." The last words surprised even Harry as he spoke them.

Dumbledore and McGonagall shared a worried look before the headmaster turned those twinkling blue eyes back upon him. "Harry, this is very serious and you're injured. Would you let me put you into an enchanted sleep and give me permission to see into your mind? You will know and have control over everything that I see."

Fear and dread washed over Harry at the possibility of his privacy and mind being invaded, but he had no reason not to trust Dumbledore. The cold feeling washed over him like a tide once more but he swallowed painfully and nodded.

Dumbledore smiled sadly and placed his hand back on Harry's head. There was a cool sensation and the world fell away as his eyes rolled up into his head and blackness swallowed him.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME


	29. Part 29

There is a disclaimer on all previous chapters and I do not recommend you reading this or any subsequent chapters before the earlier ones. This is a major reimagining of the original narrative of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and really needs to be read from the start.

And yes, I've checked moon charts for 1991 and the description is correct.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 29: Pain and Pleasure

Harry woke with a start and bolted upright in bed, suppressing a moan as unwilling muscles cried out. He looked around to see hazy outlines and vague shapes. Someone had removed his glasses.

"Good morning, Potter." Professor McGonagall said, a few feet away.

Glasses were pressed gently into his left hand and he pushed them on awkwardly with his left hand, suddenly aware that his right was heavily bandaged and clumsy.

As the world became clear again, he saw a grim expression was engraved on the head of Gryffindor house. Questions flooded his mind, but he waited for her.

"How do you feel, Potter?"

He rolled his shoulders, flexed fingers and toes and took a deep breath. He was sore all over and his throat felt thick like he'd drank treacle. Unsure whether words would come out he tried, "Okay."

McGonagall adjusted her square spectacles on her nose and sat back in her chair, her expression softening. "That's good, you've been asleep almost two days now."

Harry coughed, "Quirrell – troll – what?" He croaked out, making to stand.

She restrained him with a firm hand. "Don't you worry about that Potter, it's being taken care of. You just focus on getting better."

That felt like a dismissal. "What happened? He asked firmly.

McGonagall frowned so deeply that her thin eyebrows almost met. "You did something very impressive, dangerous and surprising, Potter. You cast a spell that should have been beyond you and it worked – most successfully, I might add – against a creature that would normally shrug off something like that. Not many wizards could face down a full-grown mountain troll and live to speak of it, let alone have the strength to sprint back across half the castle to tell about it. Your body wasn't ready for the amount of power generated by casting a spell like that and as such it was damaged by it. What was the incantation you used?"

Harry couldn't remember for a few seconds until the memory of the pain and power flashed back through his mind. "_Stupefy_, I remembered reading about it in a defensive magic book I got in Diagon Alley."

McGonagall allowed herself a thin, pale smile. "That is a spell we normally wouldn't teach to you until third year and then only if you were part of the Junior Dark Force Defence League. It's an OWL-level and beyond level spell for most people. Now, I know Professor Dumbledore has a few questions for you." She withdrew her wand, twirled it around her fingers and muttered something inaudible under her breath upon which a silvery ghostlike tabby cat burst from amidst a cloud of glistening white vapour and stood, licking a paw in mid-air. She fixed the cat with a hard expression and spoke to it. "Headmaster, Potter is awake and appears healthy. We're waiting for you whenever you're ready."

With a flick of her wand the cat disappeared in a puff of vapour.

Harry raised his eyebrows in question.

This time McGonagall's smile was much broader. "A useful spell for sending messages across long distances. It does have other applications, but they're not any business of _yours_ yet."

Harry resolved to look it up as soon as everything else had settled down. His throat was starting to sting painfully. "Water?..." he croaked.

McGonagall handed him a glass of cold, sweet water that soothed the pain in his throat. He relaxed back in his pillows for a few moments and the next thing he knew, someone was pushing open the great wooden doors to the hospital wing. Dumbledore strode in wearing robes of such a dark blue that they appeared black, with small embroidered silvery birds covering the cuffs and collar.

McGonagall stood at once and hurried over to the headmaster, exchanging rapid words out of earshot.

The ancient wizard nodded sombrely and approached the bed.

"Good morning Harry." He said, his bright blue eyes appearing a little tired and without their normal twinkle. "You gave us all a fright there for a moment."

"Sorry s-sir." Harry croaked. "What happened to Q-Q…" his voice trailed off. It seemed to be the greatest of efforts for him to speak at all.

"I will speak of Professor Quirrell in a moment, Harry.' Dumbledore said. He crossed his right leg over his left as sunlight caught off his half-moon glasses. 'First however I'd like to talk to you about the troll. I trust that I do not need to state how dangerous and cavalier your actions were and that you should have come to myself or any of the other teachers first?"

Harry nodded, feeling himself flush.

Dumbledore sighed and straightened. "in which case, I will tell you that you managed to stun a mature mountain troll into a comatose state from which it awoke only an hour ago. It has since been transported back to its clan in Denmark from where it claims to have been snatched some time ago. Unfortunately, the lack of intelligence demonstrated by most trolls seems generous and high-reaching compared to this specimen and it was able to give us no more information than he was told to smash things by 'little man with magic stick' which, given their size could mean any male in all of Hogwarts with the exception of mister Filch and Hagrid."

Harry made to speak but was interrupted by a bony hand.

"As for Professor Quirrell, that is a very different matter and one with which I must ask for your help. Do you remember, before you went to sleep that I asked permission to look at your memories of that night?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, I saw many interesting things, several of which I'm sure would be enough to see Professor Quirrell spend several months in the wizard prison Azkaban. For instance, while you do not know what was spoken between him and the troll, I do speak Giant quite well and it seems that Professor Quirrell had some very specific goals in mind that night."

"What did he say?"

"More important that 'what' would be 'why' at this time, Harry. Professor Quirrell is unwell, I'm afraid to say. He regained consciousness on the way here and… well he injured Professor Sprout quite badly and ran amok around the school before being rescued from Fluffy by Professor Snape who was himself injured in the process."

"Fluffly? What was he doing going to the third floor?"

Dumbledore eyed him with concern. "Unfortunately that is something we do not know at this time. As I told you before in my office, Fluffy is guarding something of vital importance. What concerns me is what the professor meant to do with said object."

"What is Fluffy guarding, sir?"

"That I cannot tell you Harry, I am sorry, but both myself and all the other teachers are sworn to secrecy on the matter. While I took a stroll through your memories of the day, I could not help but notice how observant you are and as such I would like for you to do me a favour if you would?"

"A favour?"

"Stay away from Fluffy and stay out of trouble for the rest of the year. The thing being guarded is to be removed as soon as possible by its owner and everything can go back to normal. We suspect Professor Quirrell has been suffering from aftereffects of a trauma he suffered during his travels in Albania. He will be returning to work after a spell in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries."

Harry frowned, he couldn't remember what he had given Dumbledore permission to see, but it must not have included the weird mindreading slave-punishment from the Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

"Okay." He said finally.

Dumbledore smiled, wrinkles crinkling around his ancient eyes. "Good. Please understand that we structure the way we teach magic here for a reason – you might be capable of doing bigger things, but that doesn't mean it's safe. We're trying to develop you and your fellows into functional members of society, not wildfires. Just stick to the curriculum and we can avoid any more accidents like this." He pointed at Harry's mummified hand at the last.

"Thank you Professor." Harry said, unable to believe that they hadn't figured out what was going on with Quirrell.

Dumbledore stood and excused himself, followed by McGonagall who departed with a gentle pat on Harry's leg. After a few minutes of peace, Madame Pomphery arrived at his bedside and informed him he could leave the hospital after she changed his bandages.

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"You stunned a troll? Cool!" Fred Weasley said with awe when Harry told him, George, Faye and Boris later in the clubhouse.

"Yeah, but look what it did to me!" Harry said, wincing as he lifted his bandaged hand. It was Saturday afternoon and most of the school had gone to visit Hogsmeade which meant the clubhouse was virtually deserted.

"Serious burnout, you're lucky you didn't break your wand." Boris said. He had drank more than a litre of his weird blue concoction which had resulted in his skin turning the colour of a blueberry and him stretched out half-conscious on one of the couches. These were the first words he'd uttered in half an hour.

"That's possible?" Asked Faye.

"Of course it is," said George, "it can happen when you don't know what the bloody hell you're doing and pour out too much power. It's called Fracturing – when the core is burned out channelling too much power.'

"Well I'm not going to try it again for a while." Harry laughed weakly.

"Why not?" Fred cried as if he was ashamed of Harry's cowardice.

"Well I don't want to kill myself or my wand, do I?"

Fred rolled his eyes, "God, you first years are stupid – pass me that bottle Boris, that's better – stupid, the teachers only show us easy stuff you know, all of the good spells and rituals are difficult or knock you around the first few times."

George released a bark of laughter, "Like the first time Lee tired the Fidelius charm and lost all his hair!"

The older students fell about laughing. Harry and Faye eyed them, wondering if they were serious.

George recovered himself first and locked eyes with Harry. "So you think it's much worse with Quirrell than old Dumbledore's making out?"

Harry nodded.

"Well they know best, don't they? I mean he's been sent to St. Mungo's already. They'll fix him up in no time." Faye said. "My uncle Titus had his entire left arm regrown last year after his flying lawnmower exploded."

"Look, Dumbledore's under a lot of pressure with all this." Fred replied, "Whatever he's keeping hold down the corridor is some serious business and I imagine he'll be glad to be rid of it."

"Which is why I can't see Quirrell returning any time soon." Boris put in with a belch.

"Well I don't trust him." Harry said. "And now that dog's stopped him once, he's going to be better prepared next time."

"You're really serious about this, aren't you Harry?" Faye said, looking hard at him.

Harry nodded. "I know it sounds weird, but the things I heard in his head sounded like he was being tortured, forced into getting this thing from the room with the dog. I don't think he's going to stop just because he was caught out once."

Something in his tone seemed to catch Fred and George's attention and they sat up straighter. "So what're you saying Harry?" Fred asked.

"I think that when Quirrell comes back, we should keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't get anywhere near that room."

"Didn't Dumbledore specifically tell you not to get into any more trouble?" Faye said, sounding distressingly like Hermione for a moment.

"Well yes, but it's not like I'll be wandering round the school blowing up trolls. We'll just be keeping an eye on someone who is already _causing_ trouble. Look, if anything happens, we can just tell Dumbledore or one of the other teachers, can't we? That way it'll be sorted and we can just get on with our exams, alright?"

Faye couldn't argue with that and the twins were more than happy to spend time spying on a teacher.

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Harry's bandages were removed three days later and for almost two months there was no drama, insurrections, betrayals or anything out of the ordinary time everything calmed down. The weather turned quickly from wet and warm to cold and stormy as they entered November. There was a lot of chatter around the school, with people constantly asking Harry what had happened on Halloween night. He decided that silence was the best policy, which seemed to end up having the effect of increasing interest in him.

"You know the problem, though don't you Harry?" Hermione asked at breakfast on the last Saturday of November.

"What's that?" Harry said as he tried to beat Ron and Seamus in a race to consume a seven-sausage and egg sandwich.

"Isn't it obvious?" She asked, rolling her eyes in the way that infuriated everyone. "You have mystique now. People are obviously going to be more interested in you now. First the attack by You-Know-Who, surviving the Avada-Kedavra…'

'The what?' Asked Dean.

Hermione ignored him without breaking stride, '… and now you manage to not only survive being attacked by a mountain troll, but to almost kill the thing! Do you have any idea how hard it is to stun any of the giant races?'

From the blank looks on everyone else's faces she gathered that they didn't and carried on. 'Well, if you actually read up on any of the giant races, from the trolls to storm giants, you'd know that they're all very magically powerful and it takes a lot more power to affect them than it does a human.'

'How do you know all this, Hermione?' Faye asked, softly, 'I mean, I've been raised by wizards and I don't know half of what you do. It's amazing.'

Red spots appeared on Hermione's cheeks, highlighting the tiny freckles on her nose. 'I… just read a lot. After professor McGonagall came to my house in June, I spent as much time reading and researching as I could.'

'I did that too,' Said Harry, leaving Ron chewing in his wake, 'but there are third years I've spoken to who don't know half of what you do.'

Hermione was looking down at her plate now, the red flush filling her face. 'Well, I did find out after you Harry and I… never mind. I just read a lot, that's all.'

'What's the matter?' Asked Lavender who was playing with a plate of very ketchup-y scrambled eggs.

'Nothing, leave it alone.' Hermione said, her eyes brightening with threatened tears.

'Okay, we'll leave it, don't worry.' Faye shuffled down the bench next to Hermione and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Seamus looked at Harry, Ron and Dean with raised eyebrows that questioned whether girls were actually human and looked about to speak when the staff door opened.

Professor Sprout walked in, leaning heavily on a cane; her normally wild crown of hair looked thinner and was scraped back and tied into a pony tail. Her skin was pale and looked chalky and she lowered herself heavily into one of the high-backed teachers' chairs. More than a dozen Hufflepuffs – her house students – leapt to their feet and ran over to the table.

'Bloody hell.' Seamus said under his breath. 'What happened to her d'you think?'

Harry frowned. It wasn't public knowledge that Professor Spout had been injured by Quirrell – most just assumed that it had been the troll that had put their Herbology teacher in the hospital wing.

McGonagall went to work shooing away the students crowding around Professor Sprout and after lunch they filed out of the hall to collect their transfiguration tools.

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Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME


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